Early the next morning, Tor and Cirren found themselves outside the gates of the palace, dressed in the finest clothes Galloway could obtain at short notice.
“I feel almost like a Prince again,” Cirren commented, tugging at his collar, which was slightly too tight. “Remind me to purchase some new clothes before we leave here.”
“If we get out of here alive.” Tor had woken up with an uneasy feeling that something was going to go wrong, leaving him in a pessimistic mood. Seth and Dal accompanied them, dressed as their valets. Bellak had also asked to go with them. He was concerned over the ease with which the Duke was managing to manipulate the entire country and feared magic was involved. If it was, it could make things difficult for Ellen when she spoke with the Queen. If Tibia was under some sort of enchantment, she would not believe anything Ellen told her and would immediately order her arrest. If magic was in use inside the palace, Bellak was convinced he would be able to detect it. Dressed in a long grey robe, he was to play the part of Tor’s chief advisor.
“Should we not have a complete company of royal guards with us?” Cirren asked nervously. “Will the Duke not find it strange that we are travelling alone, without adequate protection?”
“I already thought of that,” Tor assured his younger brother. “I plan on telling him the complete truth about our quest, though I will forget to mention that we need something from Tibia’s private garden.”
As they were almost upon the gates, all conversation ceased and Tor walked straight up to one of the soldiers on duty. “Please inform her Majesty that Prince Tor and Prince Cirren from Remeny are here to pay their respects.”
The soldier looked them both up and down. “Yeah right,” he said insolently. “If you are a Prince, I am a fieldmouse.”
“That can be arranged,” Bellak whispered. Tor ignored him, choosing instead to smile at the soldier. It was not a friendly smile.
“If you are unable to do as I ask, I strongly recommend that you send your most senior officer to me immediately before I kill you for your lack of manners.”
The soldier tried to reply, but found himself unable to speak, for fear of his Adam’s apple being sliced by the sword which had suddenly appeared at his throat. Dal, Cirren and Seth had acted almost as quickly as Tor; the other three guards found themselves in the same predicament before they could go to their colleague’s defence.
Doing his best not to move his head, the first soldier slowly moved his hand towards a rope that hung by the edge of the gates and pulled down on it. A bell sounded, followed by the sound of movement from the other side of the gates. They slowly opened to reveal a platoon of soldiers, all with swords drawn. Tor glanced up and found more than a dozen archers standing on the palace balconies, with arrows aimed in his direction.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded a red faced man who stood in front of the soldiers. He sounded out of breath and had obviously been running just before the gates opened. Tor lowered his gaze once more and regarded the man, noting the insignia on his uniform.
“My apologies for the intrusion Captain, but your man here was being less than polite. My brother and I are visiting from Remeny and wish to speak with your Queen.”
“And you are?”
“Princes Tor and Cirren.”
The Captain suddenly looked less sure of himself. He gave a quick command and one of the soldiers ran into a building on their right. A few minutes later he returned, followed by a middle aged man with grey hair and a pronounced limp. He took one look at Tor and started issuing orders. While one soldier was instructed to inform the housekeeper that refreshments would be required in one of the main reception rooms, another was sent in search of the Duke. The archers were stood down and all swords lowered.
“Please accept my apologies, your Highnesses, for your treatment by my men. It seems they doubted your identities. If you will be so kind as to release them, I will have them taken away and executed.”
Cirren blanched, but Tor remained calm. “That will not be necessary. I am sure they have learnt their lesson and will be more polite next time.” He nodded to Cirren, Seth and Dal, who all released their captives unharmed.
“As you wish,” the man in command said. “Captain, arrest these men. A week performing hard labour will do them no harm.” He then returned his attention to the visitors. “Let me introduce myself. I am General Lemell. I am in command here. Please allow me to escort you into the palace to meet with the Duke.”
The General turned and started to walk towards the doors of the palace. Tor did not move. “Actually, it is Queen Tibia we wish to see,” he called after him.
General Lemell froze mid step. Placing his raised leg slowly to the ground, he turned round to face him. “We take the safety of our ruler very seriously,” he said in a stern tone. “For her protection, nobody gains access to her Majesty without the approval of the Duke.”
“He does not believe a word he has just said,” Seth whispered to Tor as they followed the limping man towards the palace.
“I know,” Tor whispered back. “I sense some underlying resentment, though whether it is aimed at us or the Duke I am not certain. This man may turn out to be an ally, but I would not gamble my life on it.”
They were escorted to a large airy room containing comfortable sofas and chairs. After the refreshments were delivered, Lemell departed, leaving them alone to talk privately amongst themselves. They had been forewarned that most of the first floor rooms in the palace had narrow secret passageways running behind them, allowing spies to listen in on conversations without being seen. They had expected to get no further than the Duke, but kept up the pretence that they believed it was merely a formality and that they would see the Queen shortly.
They were kept waiting for a surprisingly long time, but eventually the door opened and a tall thin man walked in. His hair was black, very black, but the touches of grey in the roots betrayed that it was dyed. He did not smile as he looked towards his visitors, regarding them coldly.
“I am Duke Gravelle,” he said by way of introduction, in a soft nasal voice. “I understand you are here to see the Queen. I am afraid that will not be possible.”
“May I ask why?” Tor enquired, struggling to keep his manner pleasant. He had only been in the same room as the Duke for a few seconds and already he disliked the man. Something about him grated on Tor’s nerves, making being polite to him very difficult. He shot a questioning glance at Bellak, who shook his head. The Duke was no magic user, of that he was certain.
The Duke had been expecting the question and had the standard reply ready. “I am afraid she is not in residence at present. She is spending a few weeks visiting her country estates. May I be of assistance?” While his words expressed a wish to be of service, his entire body language shouted hostility. This man had obviously received no formal training and would not have survived five minutes in any other court.
“Thank you, but I am afraid I wish to discuss a personal matter with Queen Tibia. I presume that I will be allowed to stay in the palace until she returns.”
A look of fury crossed the Duke’s face and it took him a moment to recover himself. He had never been placed in this situation before and was not sure how to handle it. All other visitors requesting an audience with the Queen were happy to depart and return at a later date, by which time Tibia would have been unfortunately called away or was too ill to receive visitors.
“Of course,” he stammered. ‘I will have a guest suite prepared for yourself and Prince Cirren. I trust rooms in the servants’ quarters will be sufficient for your men.”
“Perfectly acceptable,” Tor assured him. They were instructed to wait where they were and someone would be along shortly to show them to their rooms. The Duke almost fled out of the door. Seth opened his mouth to comment, but Tor shook his head. He was certain they were still being spied upon.
A young, attractive maid soon arrived and led them to one of the guest suites on the second floor. It contained two bedrooms, a sitting
room, a small study and even its own dining room. “It looks like the Duke intends to keep us shut away as much as possible while he decides how to get us to leave,” Tor observed when the maid had departed. “What is the betting that all of our meals will be served here instead of the formal dining room?”
“More or less a certainty I would say,” Bellak replied. “I presume you want us all to stay with you until you and Cirren retire for the night. What are our orders once we reach the servants’ quarters?”
“Be friendly with the palace servants, but do not say much about yourselves. Complain about having to traipse around Auxland with me. It may encourage some of them to tell you more about this country and what is really going on. Servants usually know a lot more than they are given credit for. Listen carefully to everything that is said and report back to me in the morning.”
Tor turned his gaze to Seth and Dal. “And keep away from the pretty maid who showed us to our rooms,” he warned. “I will be very surprised if she is not assigned to look after us during our stay. She will be spying for the Duke and is probably used to being able to loosen tongues by fluttering her eyes at gullible young men.”
A knock on the door stopped further conversation. “Speak of the devil,” Seth whispered to Dal as Tor opened the door to reveal the maid. She was accompanied by a well dressed lady in her early twenties. Cirren was instantly smitten. She wore a dress of red velvet which hugged her in all of the right places, accentuating her near perfect figure. Her blue eyes shone brightly and her long blonde hair had been curled to frame her face.
“I am Lady Kira,” she purred. “The Duke has asked me to spend the day showing you around our wonderful city. With your permission, of course,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“It will be our pleasure,” Tor replied politely. “If you would please give us a few moments to settle in, we will be out shortly.” Inclining her head, both she and the maid left the room.
“The Duke really wants to know why we are here. That one is definitely a spy so watch what you say while she is around.” He glanced at Cirren. “Put your tongue back in before you start drooling on the carpet,” he snapped. “If she makes any suggestions about meeting with you alone, you will politely decline.”
“But I may be able to learn something from her,” Cirren protested.
“Your mind will be on other things and you know it.” Cirren did not deny it.
The group spent the day being shown around the inner city. Lady Kira was a fountain of knowledge and a surprisingly interesting tour guide. She told them a great deal about the history of Old Tennel, as well as pointing out the best places to shop and dine. That evening she ate with Tor and Cirren at one of her favourite restaurants, while Seth, Dal and Bellak returned to the palace with the maid. A travelling group of players had recently arrived in the city and would be performing a new play later in the evening and she invited Cirren to accompany her. He longed to get her alone, but followed Tor’s instructions and refused, saying he felt uncomfortable leaving his brother on his own. Lady Kira was not pleased at being turned down and did nothing to hide the fact. To appease her Cirren suggested that they all go. The play turned out to be very entertaining and it was late into the night before the two Princes finally returned to the palace.
The guard’s sister, who worked at the palace, arrived at the station house as requested late in the afternoon. She was led into a comfortable room where she was introduced by her brother as Janine. The Commander and Patrick carefully explained their problem and how they thought she could help. Much to their disappointment, she could not. There was no conceivable way she could get Ellen into the palace, which she would have to go through to reach the garden; it was just too well guarded.
Ellen watched the young lady thoughtfully as she spoke. When she had finished, she smiled slightly, an idea slowly forming in her head.
“I have an idea,” she announced. “I know a spell which should alter my features so that I look exactly like Janine, including the voice and facial expressions.”
“Continue,” Galloway instructed, though he was sure he knew where Ellen was heading. The witch went on to explain that if, for a short time, she could make herself appear to be Janine, she would be able to enter the palace and make her way to the garden without any problems. The spell would only last a little over an hour so she would have to either go to the palace early in the morning, which would be highly suspicious, or she would have to find somewhere to hide for a few hours. It was agreed that this was a good solution to their problem and Janine was more than willing to sleep the night in one of the empty officers’ rooms.
While Ellen spent a few hours carefully brewing the drug that she was to give to the soldiers guarding the garden, Janine remained with her, instructing her on the layout of the palace and the general work routine, as well as describing some of the people she might run into and should be wary of.
Night fell. The potion was finally ready, so Ellen ladled it into a small bottle and placed it into her pocket. As all of the servants in the palace dressed similarly, Ellen swapped clothes with Janine, using magic to make them fit her better. At the designated time, Ellen began to enunciate the spell, making her features slowly change until she no longer looked like herself.
“This is remarkable,” she said as she looked in a mirror. She did not recognise her own voice.
“I cannot even tell the difference,” Janine’s brother said in amazement, looking from Ellen to Janine and back again.
“Stop admiring yourself,” Patrick reprimanded Ellen. “You do not have time to waste. Get to the palace as soon as you can and hide. You do not want the magic to wear off while you are still walking through the corridors.”
Worried for her safety, he had dressed down in order to escort her to her destination. He was not sure how safe the streets of Tennel were at night for a young lady walking alone and did not want to take any risks. When the door that served as the servants’ entrance was in sight, Patrick wished her good luck and watched from the shadows as she continued onwards, alone. As Janine had instructed, she knocked three times on the door and waited for it to be opened.
A large burley man, with a neatly trimmed beard, eventually answered her knock. “Janine,” he said in surprise. “What are you doing back here at this time of night?”
“Fren is sick,” Ellen replied. “I have been asked to work her shift.” Janine had informed her that her friend, Fren, worked the night shift and was indeed sick. Nobody had been requested to cover for her, but the doorman would not be aware of that.
The doorman grunted. “Never seen a maid doing a cleaner’s job before.”
Ellen pursed her lips. “Tell me about it. I am not in the least bit happy about it, but would you dare to say no to the dragon?” The dragon was what all of the other servants called the head housekeeper; though not to her face.
The doorman gave her a sympathetic look and opened the door wide enough for her to get past him. Thanking him, she made her way into the heart of the palace. Janine had sketched out a rough map for her, which she had memorised, so she was relatively confident she would not get lost. She needed to get to the kitchen, from which a door led to the courtyard across which the garden lay. The kitchen would not be empty yet, despite the late hour, but she would have to take the risk that nobody there would ask her to do anything. It was too dangerous for her to hide in the palace; she needed to get out into the courtyard as quickly as she could.
The kitchen door creaked as she opened it, bringing her to the attention of the two people inside. Both were dressed in aprons and one was busy pouring tea into a pot while the other was drying pans and putting them away.
“Good evening Mrs Crame,” Ellen said politely to the lady who was now placing clean cups on a tray along with the teapot. Janine had warned her that at least one cook would still be on duty and her wiry grey hair and round figure matched the description Ellen had been given. Ellen silently thanked Janine for providing her with so much
information.
“I am glad to see you girl,” the cook replied in a friendly manner. “We have a couple of Princes staying with us at the moment and they have just demanded tea. You can save me a journey. I was going to have to take it myself seeing as how a certain someone cannot be trusted not to throw herself at every man who stays under this roof.” She threw a cold look at the woman who had just finished with the pans. She received no reply. After banging the last pot into place, she stormed out of the kitchen, roughly bumping into Ellen as she passed.
The cook sighed. “Why they keep her on, I will never know. She thinks that by bedding every noble she can she will end up marrying one of them, but she has neither the looks nor the personality to be more than just a bit of fun for a night. As for her work, she is absolutely hopeless.”
Ellen smiled. Janine had been thoughtful enough to fill her in on some of the gossip and Ellen was sure she had been told something about the woman who had just walked out. She lowered her voice. “I heard that she is the Duke’s illegitimate daughter. He is supposed to have got a servant pregnant when he was young and she is the result. He offered her a job and dare not get rid of her as her mother has threatened to tell his wife. He swears that she is the only woman he has ever laid with so if she finds out he has a daughter there will be all hell to pay.”
The cook returned her smile. “Now that explains a few things.” She picked up the tray and handed it to Ellen, giving directions to the guest suite that the Princes were staying in. Ellen hurried along, silently cursing Tor and Cirren. She knocked on the door then entered, without waiting for a reply.
Tor stood up in surprise when he saw her. “Servants usually wait for permission before entering.” As both he and Cirren had left for the palace before Janine had arrived at the station house, neither knew that the maid was Ellen.
Ellen placed the tray on a table and started to pour the tea. “I did not have time to wait. Some inconsiderate Princes decided they wanted tea and I walked into the kitchen at just the right time to be roped into delivering it. If the spell wears off before I get out through the kitchen I will be severely annoyed with you both.” Cirren was flabbergasted.
The Maze Page 28
