by Callie Kanno
“It is clear,” the king went on in a ringing tone, “that this attack was carefully planned and executed. It is also clear that it could not have been done without the help of someone within the palace walls.”
Idris nodded. He had suspected the same thing.
“We have a traitor in our midst,” roared Nikolas, “and I will not rest until that traitor is brought to justice.”
Idris glanced over at Cowan and saw that his expression remained somber. “What would you have me do, your majesty?” Cowan asked as though he already knew the answer.
“The traitor could not have been a stranger,” the king said as he held up a finger. “The traitor would have to be well-positioned in the palace for such an attack.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Cowan agreed gravely.
“The traitor would have to be someone in authority, with the means to coordinate stolen uniforms. Someone who would know the gaps in schedules so that they could synchronize attacks.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Idris found himself frowning. Everything the king was saying made sense, and yet, something seemed wrong. Something Idris couldn’t quite identify.
“In short,” King Nikolas barked, “the traitor must be among my most trusted soldiers—my Royal Guards.”
“I assure you that none of us was involved in this attack, your majesty,” Cowan said calmly.
“But of course you would say that,” the king snarled impatiently. “If you refuse to find the traitor yourself, I have no choice but to place every member of the Royal Guard under arrest for treason.”
Nikolas made a sharp motion with his hand and several palace guards marched in from the anteroom. Any of the Royal Guards could have defeated the soldiers easily, but they all quietly submitted to arrest. They were stripped of their weapons of power and their wrists were bound.
Idris could hardly believe what was happening. Before he could properly react, he was also separated from his partisan and roughly dragged from the royal chambers.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Prisoners
The dungeon was located under the palace, down several flights of stairs. Idris was pulled away from the other Royal Guards and taken through a doorway into a room with a cell like a barred cage against one wall. One of the guards held him as the other unbuckled the harness that held the partisan. The guard then opened the door of the cell, and the other pushed Idris inside. They locked the door behind him. His partisan was hung on a hook in the corner of the room where he couldn’t reach it through the bars.
The guards left, pulling the door to the room shut behind them, leaving Idris alone and dazed.
There was a narrow cot in the corner of the cage, and Idris slowly sat down on it. His mind could barely process what had just happened. That morning he had been training with Aherin, just like every other day. Then he had been surprised with a visit from his family.
He had been so happy to see them. And he thought of them now, waiting for him to return. He thought of how worried his mother must be.
“I wonder if my family will be told what happened to me,” Idris said, bewildered.
I doubt it, Iona said in a clipped tone. The king will not want it sounded abroad that he has arrested his most trusted soldiers.
“He cannot keep it a secret forever,” Idris pointed out.
No, but he can put it off until he has proof of guilt or innocence.
Idris leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. “I do not understand. My duty was to protect the princess, and that is what I did. Why am I imprisoned?”
In my experience, rulers are rarely rational.
Idris shook his head and fell silent. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with Iona. He knew that she had more experience with kings than he did, but he simply couldn’t believe that King Nikolas’s actions were normal for a monarch.
Idris sat on the cot for a while, then he paced up and down the cell. After a while, he stood with his forehead pressed against the bars, and then he sat down again.
He supposed the dungeon wasn’t bad, as dungeons went. It wasn’t dark, dank, or haunted by the moans of tortured prisoners. His room was well-lit with lanterns, and the air was only slightly musty.
He had lost track of time when the door opened, admitting two palace guards and the king’s personal secretary.
The secretary was a fussy-looking man, but he was very efficient. He lost no time in getting down to business.
“You are Idris, son of Cadell, son of Garan?”
“Yes,” Idris answered somewhat hoarsely.
“You are a native of Rest Stone Valley of the Hills Province?”
He cleared his throat and responded in a clearer voice. “Yes.”
“And are you currently training to become a member of the king’s Royal Guard?”
“Yes.”
The man’s expression was satisfied, as if there had been a question of Idris’s identity. He shuffled through some pieces of parchment that he held in his hand, skimming over what was written on them.
“Tell me, Idris, how did you come to possess that partisan?” he inquired, pointing at Iona.
Idris shifted his weight. “I was led to her.”
“Led?”
“There was a feeling inside me that showed me where to go,” Idris clarified.
The secretary made a politely incredulous noise. “Can anyone verify that?”
Idris frowned. “No.”
“Are you certain that you were not instructed on where to find that weapon?”
Idris was baffled by the question. “Who would instruct me?”
The secretary made a casual gesture with his hand. “It could have been mentioned in passing by a friend or by one of the guards positioned in the Treasury. Perhaps someone came to you and asked that you retrieve the weapon on their behalf.”
Idris’s expression darkened considerably and he balled his fists in anger. “If it were that easy to get a weapon of power, none would remain in the Treasury.”
The man leaned forward eagerly. “And how do you know that? Have you heard of a plot to take all of the weapons from the Treasury?”
Idris made a disgusted sound. “No, it is simply common sense. There are ambitious people everywhere, and I am certain that they have tried to get a position among the Royal Guards through dishonest means.”
The secretary held up a finger. “You are correct in saying that there are many who seek to be a member of the Royal Guard. So, how is it that a mere farmer was given that opportunity?”
Idris’s face flushed. “Luck,” he said shortly.
“I do not believe that,” the secretary responded in a soft, significant tone.
“I do not either,” Idris shot back, “but I am afraid that I do not have any other answer for you. I do not know why I was chosen. I only know that I have striven to do my best since beginning my training.”
“Your best,” mused the other man. “Interesting.”
Idris frowned. “What?”
He shrugged. “Well, it just does not seem to me that your best would be abandoning the king during an attack on the palace.”
“I did not abandon the king,” Idris retorted. “I was doing my duty in protecting Princess Zorina.”
“Your companion did not feel the same conflict,” the secretary said in a reasonable voice. “She knew that her first duty was to King Nikolas.”
“Are you saying that I should have left a six-year-old girl all by herself when the palace was under attack?” Idris asked, outraged.
“It is not an ideal choice,” admitted the secretary, “but as a member of the Royal Guard you will often be placed in difficult situations. The king has to know that you will make the right decisions in such scenarios.”
“Leaving the princess to defend herself alone is the right decision?” demanded Idris.
“The princess is not the king, nor is she his heir. Perhaps it would be different if you were charged with protecting the crown prince.”
Idri
s felt like wringing the man’s scrawny neck. “She could have died,” he shouted.
The man’s eyebrows shot upward. “But she did not. And that brings us to another interesting point. How is it that of all the Royal Guards you were the only one who remained unharmed?”
Idris stopped short. “What?”
“You alone evaded any sort of hostile encounter,” repeated the secretary. “That seems very lucky indeed,” he said, throwing the word back at him. “Unless you knew where the enemy soldiers would attack.”
Idris couldn’t remember ever being so angry before. He could hear his blood ringing in his ears and his mouth felt strangely dry. His instinct was to lash out and strike at the smug man on the other side of the bars. However, since that wasn’t possible, Idris clenched his fists and closed his eyes.
After a moment, Idris ventured to speak. “Princess Zorina told me of a passage that led up to one of the towers. She said that few people knew of it, so we went there to hide.”
“No one found you there?” prompted the secretary.
“Obviously not, since you have already pointed out that I did not encounter any enemy soldiers,” Idris said scathingly.
“Interesting,” the man said again.
Idris gritted his teeth. “You can verify my story with the princess.”
The secretary shrugged. “She is quite willing to sing your praises, but she is still a child. She can only relate the events as she perceived them.”
“It seems to me that you have already made up your mind that I am a traitor,” Idris said stiffly.
“I would not put it that way,” the secretary replied in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring but instead came across as sly. “But perhaps you find yourself under the influence of others with less honorable intentions. It is not your fault, you know. You are young and inexperienced. How could you be blamed?”
This made Idris even angrier. The man was trying to manipulate Idris into admitting to something that he hadn’t done. He was more or less promising that Idris wouldn’t get into trouble if he named the “others with less honorable intentions.”
How was that justice? Even if Idris had been guilty, what kind of justice would allow them to let him go as long as he gave them information?
Idris looked at the man with utter contempt. “I have nothing to say to you.”
The secretary sniffed haughtily. “Suit yourself, Idris. You will not be so proud when your friends give you up.”
He and the guards left, once again leaving Idris on his own.
“Can you believe them?” Idris raged at Iona.
Unfortunately, I can. It is not uncommon to allow the release of lesser criminals in order to obtain information on more dangerous criminals. I believe you humans call it the greater good.
“I was talking about the fact that they think I am a traitor,” Idris said.
Well, that cannot be avoided. The king must be suspicious of everyone, especially those new to the palace.
“It just does not seem right,” he muttered.
Right or wrong is not the issue.
“That is always the issue,” Idris argued. “We were chosen to be the protectors of the royal family, and that is what we did. We protected them during an attack, and many of the Guards were injured in the process. If that does not prove that we are loyal to the king, what does?”
Marlais had that same unyielding morality when we first set out together.
There was something in the way that Iona said that that made Idris uneasy. “Are you saying that he lost that over time?”
There was a thoughtful pause.
He grew to understand that things are not always as we would wish. I suppose we both learned that…
Idris sighed and shook his head. “That does not change the fact that I am in the dungeon for following orders. Even the most ruthless ruler could not wish their own child to be left alone in danger. Why is King Nikolas doing this?”
He is afraid, Iona answered. And you should know that creatures are most dangerous when they are afraid.
Idris sat down heavily on the narrow cot. “I am already in prison. What else could they do to me?”
A sense of apprehension radiated from the partisan.
In a situation such as this, being imprisoned is the least of your worries, farmer.
Idris’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
I have seen hunts such as these, where those in power are desperate to find someone to blame—anyone at all. They never end well for anyone.
The cold fingers of dread crept over Idris’s chest, and he could feel the blood drain from his face.
“Do you mean…?”
I mean that your life is in danger, farmer. Not only your life, but the lives of those closest to you.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Letting Go
Idris kept expecting the king’s personal secretary to return and continue the questioning, but days passed and nothing happened. Or at least Idris assumed that they were days. The only way he had of telling time was when the serving boy brought him bread and water. The boy was the only person he saw.
After Idris had spent more than a week in prison, the door to the small room opened and Captain Cowan stepped through. He was dressed in his scarlet uniform and he held his bo staff, but he looked more tired than he ever had before.
“Good afternoon, Idris.”
Idris hurried to his feet and stood at attention. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Are they treating you well, boy? Have you been harmed in any way?”
He shook his head. “No, sir. I have hardly seen a soul since coming here.”
“Well, that is something,” Cowan said, more to himself than to Idris.
Idris balled his fists, not out of anger, but as a way to vent some of the anxiety welling up in him. “Do you have news of my family, sir? I did not have the opportunity to see if they were safe.”
Cowan’s brows knit together as he searched his memory. “I believe they went back to Rest Stone Valley. There were no reported injuries from Marath on the day of the attack, so I assume they are well.”
It was not as definitive as Idris would have liked, but it was enough to set his mind at ease.
“Have you come here to release me, sir?” he asked. “Surely they must know by now that I am innocent.”
Cowan’s shoulders sagged as if under a heavy weight. “I am sorry to say that the king is less certain of anyone’s innocence now than he was before. It has taken a great deal of effort on my part to secure the release of the senior Royal Guards, but he refuses to let any of the junior Guards go.”
“The king’s secretary seemed convinced that I was a traitor,” Idris said bitterly. “I am certain that is not helping the situation.”
Cowan smiled sadly. “I would not worry what the king’s secretary thinks of you. He and the rest of the king’s personal staff were arrested as soon as I was cleared. I am in charge of the investigation now.”
Idris was baffled by this news. “If you are in charge of the investigation, then why can you not release the rest of the Royal Guard? You know that we are innocent.”
“All decisions must be made by King Nikolas. I merely gather information.”
Idris felt weighed down by defeat. He slumped. “Is there nothing we can do?”
“You can tell me everything you remember from the day of the attack,” Cowan answered.
The young man rubbed his eyes. “I already told the secretary everything. He did not believe me.”
Cowan raised a finger. “The difference is that I do not believe that you are the traitor. Now, think back and tell me what you remember.”
“The princess said she knew of a place where we could hide,” he began.
“No, before then,” interrupted Cowan. “Where were you before the attack?”
“I was down in the city’s main market with my family. They had come to visit and I was showing them around.”
“Did you see anything out of the o
rdinary? Did anything happen that struck you as odd?” pressed the captain.
Idris frowned and shook his head. But then something stirred in his memory. “There was a merchant that did not know how the Royal Guards pay for goods. I had to borrow money from another merchant to cover that purchase.”
Cowan scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Was it a young person? Perhaps someone new to the city?”
Idris shrugged. “I would guess she was a similar age to my mother, but she did seem new to Marath.”
“How long before the attack did you see her?”
“Not long,” answered Idris. “I doubt she could have left her booth and gotten to the palace in that amount of time.”
Cowan inclined his head. “Anything else out of the ordinary?”
“No, I do not think so,” Idris said uncertainly. “I do not go into Marath very often, though, sir. I am not familiar enough with the city to know if something is amiss.”
“What about before your family arrived?” he went on.
“I had been training with Aherin,” Idris said.
“Did you see anything or hear anything?” prompted the captain.
Idris searched his memory, but nothing presented itself. He shook his head, disappointed that he didn’t have anything more to offer the captain. “No, there was nothing out of the ordinary.”
Cowan sighed softly. “Well, keep thinking on it. If there is anything you remember, no matter how small it may seem, please let me know.”
Idris nodded, but he could feel himself losing hope. He rested his forehead against the metal bars of his cage and stared at the ground.
Cowan placed a weathered hand on Idris’s shoulder. “Do not give up, boy. Dark times pass, and the king will soon remember the faith he has placed in us. I have been guarding him since he was a child. He has never failed to trust me yet. It will just take time.”
Idris didn’t feel very hopeful, but he nodded anyway. “Thank you, sir.”
“There are two guards just down the hall,” Captain Cowan told him. “If you think of anything, call them and ask for me.”
“Yes, sir.”
