Tibia joined them for breakfast in the formal dining room. Since her breakfast with Ellen in her rooms a few days previous, she had not eaten alone, preferring to enjoy the pleasant conversation Tor and his retinue provided. Other than Patrick and Ellen, she was the last to arrive. To assist Patrick in his lie about being betrothed to Ellen, Tibia had put them in the same room. They had both been late to breakfast ever since. For the same reason, Ria and Seth also had to share a room, though what the actual sleeping arrangements were nobody had been brave enough to ask.
All eyes turned to her as she entered the room, though it only took her a moment to realise that they were looking around her, rather than at her.
“Oh come on,” she said in exasperation. “They are only kittens; nothing to be scared of.”
“Kittens,” Seth choked. “Are you telling me those things are not yet fully grown?”
“They will not reach maturity for another few years. They are wonderful pets, completely loyal and great fun to cuddle with. Join me this afternoon for their daily play time and you can get to know them properly.”
“Yeah, we saw a demonstration of their loyalty yesterday,” Seth muttered under his breath. Tor kicked him under the table.
“Forgive us your Majesty,” he said, loud enough to drown out Seth’s mutterings. “But yesterday we saw your ‘pets’ rip a man apart and eat him. I hope you understand our reluctance to see them again.”
Tibia shrugged her shoulders. “It is your loss,” she stated. She noticed that Samson was cowering under Bellak’s chair. Usually he was happy to ignore cats, seeing them as inferior specimens of the animal kingdom, but the felines Tibia owned were another matter. After seeing what they could do to a man, he worried that they may see a wolf as ‘dinner’. He did not notice Tibia walk over to him and was taken by surprise when she gave a loud meow behind him. He jumped to his feet, banging his head on the underside of the chair, then ran out of the still open door. Tibia could not prevent a small giggle from escaping from between her firmly closed lips. Bellak glared at her, but remained silent.
Once Tibia was seated, eating and conversation resumed. “Will you tell me of your adventures so far on your quest?” the Queen asked them, genuinely interested.
The rest of the morning was spent telling Tibia about all they had been through. Though Sam had heard a lot about their travels before she joined them, a few things came up that were new to her, so she listened as intently as Tibia. Now that Cirren and Brin were part of the team, there were two tales to tell and everyone had the opportunity both to contribute to the narration and to hear things they had not known before. Tibia was shocked to learn that the will was a tontine and promised faithfully to inform any of the remaining brothers that entered Tennel, hoping to gain access to her garden. While she would refuse them permission to enter, she now knew which flower they sought and would happily pick it for them.
“So where to next?” she asked, once all tales had been retold. “What is the next part of the clue?”
“Take me to the valley deep, where rests Dathos in his keep. Burn me as an offering, then the next stage will begin,” Ellen quoted, having memorised the exact wording.
“Dathos?” Tibia asked. “I have never heard of him.” She was not the only one. Up until this point, everyone had been concentrating on getting the flower they needed; they had not given any consideration to the second part of the clue. Now it was time to do so and nobody had any idea where to even start.
“I would offer you full use of my advisors,” Tibia said, with a touch of regret. “But I have had them all executed and every single one of my tutors has been banished. Sorry.” She gave an apologetic shrug.
“Surely there is somebody left who knows your country’s history, or that of neighbouring lands.” Tor was not hopeful, but felt he had to ask.
Tibia thought for a moment. “You could always try the workhouses,” she suggested.
“Workhouses?” Sam frowned. The word conjured up memories of school history lessons when she had to learn about pre-Victorian Britain where the poor were sent to workhouses to be treated as slaves in exchange for minimal food, ragged clothing and an uncomfortable bed to sleep in.
Seeing her look of confusion, Patrick explained. A lot of professions had a guild, to which you had to be a member to legally apply your trade. This included everything from butchers and blacksmiths, right up to teachers, historians and even wizards. Training was either done as an apprenticeship to a fully qualified guild member, who provided regular updates to the guild as to the student’s progress and gave approval for final certification, or by enrolling at a workhouse. The guilds were international, meaning proof of membership in one country qualified the member to work in any country without first having to prove their skills.
“So the workhouses are kind of like trade schools.” Patrick nodded. “Next you will be telling me that there is a thieves’ guild and an assassins’ guild, like in most of the fantasy books I have read.”
Patrick’s face coloured slightly. “Actually there are.”
Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You actually train people to be robbers and murderers?”
“It is not as bad as it sounds,” Seth said, taking over the conversation. “Crime is actually reduced by these two guilds. If any member of the thieves’ guild catches an unlicensed thief, instead of handing them over to the proper authorities, they deal with him themselves. I once caught a young lad trying to pick my pocket and he begged me to take him to jail instead of the guild. And as for the assassins, if you ever want to murder someone, I strongly suggest you hire them to do it. What they do to freelance killers I will not repeat with ladies present. They are very expensive as, if caught, they will be tried and convicted like anyone else, but they have a strict rule of secrecy. Once hired, they will never reveal who their client is.”
“But that is barbaric,” Sam protested. “You are basically saying the rich can have anyone murdered that they wish and get away with it.”
“It is not quite that bad. You cannot just tell the guild you want someone killed and they will take care of it. There have to be very good reasons. If there are not, then the guild reports their attempted hiring to the local magistrate.”
“So if Brin runs off with another woman, I cannot hire an assassin to kill them both.”
Patrick smiled. “That really depends on the circumstances. If, for example, you were carrying his child, then the assassins would be prepared to pay him a visit to remind him of his obligations.”
“You mean threaten him.”
“That is not a nice way of putting it, but basically yes. If he chose to ignore the warning, a second, more severe one would be sent.”
“Like?”
“Removal of one finger is common.” Sam winced. “He would not get a third warning. He just would not wake up one morning.”
“If we could get back to the subject of the clue,” Tor interrupted before Sam could ask any more questions. “Which particular guilds are stationed here in Tennel?”
“Well all of them, of course.” Tibia was genuinely surprised by the question. “I suggest you start with the teachers as I believe one of the trainers currently stationed here is an expert in local history.”
“An excellent suggestion, your Majesty. Though we have no idea if Dathos is even from Auxland, at least it gives us somewhere to start.”
After a lot of discussion, it was decided that they should all go to the workhouses, each tackling a different guild. Bellak was the obvious choice for the wizards, Ellen nominated herself to tackle the witches and Seth suggested he be allowed to tackle the prostitutes. This caused a great deal of amusement and his offer was rapidly withdrawn when he was reminded that in Auxland the prostitutes were male not female. Instead he suggested he should go to see the blacksmiths, while Ria volunteered to go to question the whores in his place. She seemed a little too enthusiastic for Tor’s liking and he told her she would be better off with the thieves, since she was
already a member of that particular guild. Tor himself would tackle the prostitutes. He was the leader and would not send someone to do something that he was not prepared to do himself. Patrick, Sam, Brin, Cirren, Modo and Dal were each assigned a specific guild and they all headed off into the city. Samson had not been located, so they were forced to leave without him. If he had still not shown himself by the time they returned, a search party would be formed.
Tor’s time with the prostitutes was not pleasant. It took him a long time to convince the doorman that he was not there to enrol. In the end he had to produce a letter which Tibia had written and sealed with the royal seal, stating that the holder had her authority to enter any of the guilds to seek the information he or she needed. Each member of the team had been provided with one. The doorman reluctantly let him in and escorted him into an office, empty except for a desk with a chair and an uncomfortable looking couch. He was not kept waiting long. The door opened and a middle aged woman entered, wearing a full length, tight fitting, silk gown and a lot of jewellery. She did not introduce herself. Tor rose to his feet as she entered and held out his hand. He started to explain who he was and why he was there, but she cut him off.
“Take your clothes off,” she ordered, sitting down in the seat behind the desk. “You are much older than those who usually wish an apprenticeship, but you are not bad looking and if your body is as good naked as it is clothed then I will consider taking you on.”
Tor blushed. He had definitely done the right thing by not sending Seth. “I am not here for an apprenticeship,” he said sternly. “I am Prince Tor from Remeny. I am here to seek your help with a puzzle I am attempting to solve.”
The nameless woman pursed her lips. “Very good. The ladies will enjoy spending time with someone with such a good imagination.” Then her voice hardened. “While you are in my academy, you do what I tell you, immediately. Now strip.”
Tor did not obey. Instead he handed Tibia’s letter to her. She angrily snatched it from his hand and read it, the colour draining from her face with each word. When she had finished, she carefully placed the letter on the desk and looked at Tor. “It appears I owe you an apology,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Are you really a Prince?”
Tor waved her apology away and confirmed that he had been speaking the truth. He explained why he was there and that all of the other guilds were also being visited. The woman, who finally introduced herself as Madame Caroll, dropped her stern act and became as helpful as she could. Unfortunately, she had never heard of Dathos. She rang a bell that was sitting on the desk and a maid appeared. She gave instructions to have refreshments sent to the room and to have everyone currently in the building questioned about Dathos; servants, teachers, students and those fully trained prostitutes currently in residence would all be required to provide any information they had.
Tor and Madame Caroll ate in silence. Before the refreshments had arrived, the Madame tried to tell Tor a little of the work she and her fellow instructors performed at the academy, but the look on Tor’s face made her fall silent. He was not in the least bit curious about this particular guild and the last thing he wanted to hear about was their teaching methods. Tor was just declining a second cup of tea when the maid returned, announcing that everyone had been questioned, but nobody had ever heard of anyone called Dathos. Madame Caroll said she would have messages sent to the guild houses in every country and promised to report to the palace if anyone had any useful information, but, other than that, there was nothing more she could do and Tor was politely ejected from the building.
Bellak had less trouble gaining access to the wizards’ guild, but had no more luck in obtaining any information on Dathos. Though everyone was more than happy to talk with Bellak, wizards tended to have lousy memories for names and none of them could recall ever hearing anyone mention Dathos. The librarian gave him full access to all of the books, but they were only spell books and none were written by an author named Dathos. Ellen found herself in the same situation with the witches; while everyone went out of their way to help her, nobody actually knew anything and all reference books talked about spells and potions rather than people.
The biggest surprise was the thieves. Their trade relied heavily on listening carefully and remembering what they heard, as well as skill with their hands and bodies. The fact that nobody currently stationed in the thieves workhouse, whether thief, trainee or tutor, had ever heard the name Dathos worried Ria greatly.
Tor was the first to return to the palace. One at a time, the others returned, each feeling utterly dejected. Tor’s spirits fell more and more as each member of his party delivered their bad news. It appeared that nobody at any of the workhouses had ever heard of anyone named Dathos and none of the guilds could find any mention of him in their reference books. They still had many more guilds to try the next day, but they had gone to the most likely ones first so he did not hold out much hope.
Patrick was the last to return. He had visited the historians; the most likely guild to be able to help. He collapsed into a chair, shaking his head at Tor. Every single apprentice had been roped in to help search through all of their books, but not one mention of Dathos could be found. It had been a very long day and Patrick was suffering from a pounding headache that made him decline the offer of a large quantity of wine.
“If I never see another book as long as I live, I will be a happy man,” he moaned before leaving the room in search of Ellen and one of her pain killing brews.
After delivering their reports, the three ladies had headed off to the baths, while the men went in search of ale. Only Bellak remembered that they had all agreed to hunt for Samson when they returned, but he did not mention it, deciding to search on his own for a while first. He had not been looking for long when he bumped into Tibia, literally.
“Watch where you are going,” he growled, without seeing who he was speaking to. He raised his head and realised he had just accosted the Queen. “Please forgive me your Majesty,” he said, falling to his knees.
“Whatever is the matter?” she asked, ignoring his initial lack of manners.
“I am looking for Samson. He ran off when you scared him and nobody has seen him since.”
“I have,” she informed him smugly. “Come with me.” She led him through the palace and out towards her private garden. They walked around the edge of it in silence until they came upon a large open area. Bellak stared at the sight before him in disbelief as his lips slowly formed a smile. They had arrived at the area of the palace grounds where Tibia’s cats received their daily exercise and play. They were still happily running around, under the watchful gaze of their minders. Samson was with them.
“Is he playing with them?” Tibia nodded her head.
“He heard my maid telling me the kitties had been fed and were ready for playtime and followed me down here. He watched as we played for a while, nervously pacing up and down. I rolled their ball towards him to see what he would do. I expected him to run away, but he held his ground. I guess he wanted to prove how brave he really is. The kitties chased after the ball, but stopped when they got close to the wolf. He did not react while they sniffed him all over and, when they had finished and started to walk away, he pushed the ball after them with his nose. All three have been playing together ever since.”
“He looks so happy,” Bellak observed, a tear falling unnoticed down his cheek. “I have never seen him play like that before.” He must have spoken louder than he realised, causing Samson to pause in his game and look round. Seeing Bellak, he barked once to his two playmates and ran towards the wizard. He sat down on his haunches in front of him and looked at him, expectantly. Bellak obliged him by telling him how brave he was and how proud he was of him before telling him to go back and finish his game.
“I have a horrible feeling we will end up going back to Allias’s library,” Seth complained as he walked with Dal back to their rooms.
“But that will take us ages,” Dal replied.
“Surely there is somewhere closer.”
“Unless we can find what we need here, returning to Emvale is probably our best option. The only other large library that is close is at St Cuthberts, but I cannot imagine Tor ever taking us there.”
“Why not?” Dal had never heard of it and, being an inquisitive youth, was intrigued about any place that his cousin was unhappy about visiting.
Seth sighed. “I take it you have never heard of it before?” Dal shook his head. “It is a nunnery.”
“What is so bad about that?” Dal asked when Seth did not continue.
“The nuns there practice some...how shall I put it... strange ceremonies.”
“Like?” Dal said eagerly.
Seth halted abruptly, holding out his arm to stop Dal from walking past him. When Dal looked at his face, it was gravely serious. “There are some things you are still too young to know. All I will say is that if you ever have to go there, get out before nightfall.”
Dal opened his mouth to accuse his friend of trying to frighten him, but the look on the other’s face stopped him; the warning was serious. They continued walking for a while in silence.
“Someone here must have heard of this Dathos and know where his keep is,” Dal said in exasperation as they opened the door to his room. Neither of them had noticed the elderly maid that was passing by and both jumped when she spoke to them.
“I am sorry to disturb you young sirs, but did you just mention Dathos’s keep?”
Seth eyed her warily. She was short and quite plump, with a mass of thick grey hair tied in a bun on top of her head. Glancing at her hands, which were holding a pail of soapy water, he noticed how hard and wrinkled they were. They had either seen many years of domestic labour or had been well disguised. He thought he recognised her as being among those servants Janine had indicated were loyal to the Queen, so he decided to take a chance.
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