by Rick Shelley
"Beats hiking through the forest," he said.
We were in a small stone room, rounded enough to let me guess that it was in a narrow tower. Beyond the door was a circular stairway-stone, not one of those tight metal things. We went down two levels. There were armed guards at the bottom, scruffy types who would have been right at home with the Wizard of Id.
"Must be breakfast time," one guard said. "Here's our wizard." The guards both wore chain mail and leather, conical helmets with nose guards. Their weapons were halberds and broadswords.
"He has someone with him this morning," the other guard said.
"A little respect!" Parthet's voice had more temper to it than I had heard before. "This is young Gil, the son of Carl and Avedell."
I don't think I can adequately describe the change that came over the guards. They stared at me and lost the look of bantering good humor. There was respect in their eyes, maybe something close to awe. They backed off and damn near bowed.
"The son of the Hero?" one of them asked. I could hear the capital letter in the tone. I noticed something peculiar too. The guard's mouth and voice were out of sync, like in a dubbed movie. I looked to Parthet, but he was watching the guards. He nodded, then started off too fast for me to ask questions. We crossed a large paved courtyard with high gray walls all around. Maybe my uncle had a magic doorway into the castle, but it sure didn't open on the dining room.
"Hold up a second," I called and Parthet waited for me. "What was that all about?"
"The churls forgot themselves. I merely upbraided them for it. More gently than they deserved."
"That's not what I mean. When you told them who I am, they did everything but kiss my feet."
"Your parents are held in high respect here. Avedell is Princess Royal and Carl is King's Champion, Hero of Varay."
"And what's wrong with their mouths? The words didn't match the way their lips were moving."
That slowed Parthet for a second. "English isn't the language of Varay, but part of the magic of the seven kingdoms lets everyone hear his own language, no matter what is spoken."
"You're in sync, though."
"I speak English as much as anything, I suppose."
"Another question. Since you've got a magical doorway into the castle, why not to a more convenient location? Like the great hall, for instance."
Parthet started walking again, more leisurely. "It wouldn't do to have such a doorway into a critical place inside all the defenses. There is a chance that an enemy might gain access to a doorway, and perhaps to the keys. And my cottage is open to anyone." We walked on, and he shook his head. "Actually, there are ways into the keep, but not from my place. It doesn't matter. I'm close enough for meals." He bashed his staff against a small door twenty feet left of a huge set of double doors, and another guard opened it.
"Good morning, Parthet," this guard said, nodding respectfully.
"Good morning, Lesh," Parthet replied cheerfully. "Is the table ready?"
"At the crack of dawn, as always, Lord Wizard." There was no mockery in Lesh's voice. I got the impression he liked Parthet.
"You might announce my companion," Parthet said. "Gil, son of Carl and Avedell."
Lesh's face went funny like the others', but only for an instant. He recovered quickly. "Of course." He gave us each a half-bow and led the way through a small anteroom into the great hall of Castle Basil. At the inner door, Parthet held me back. Lesh went on in.
"The Lord Wizard of Varay, and His Highness Prince Gil Tyner." The words really boomed out.
"Am I hearing thing?" I asked Parthet.
"Unless your ears have quit working." He chuckled, then grinned widely. "Come on, lad. Let's make a proper entrance."
The great hall was eighty feet long, thirty wide, and twenty high at the edges, rising to an arched ceiling supported by massive timbers about forty feet above the floor along the center ridge. There were tapestries and sconces on the walls, several immense fireplaces, bunches of weapons, both long and short. People were sitting at two rough tables that met in a T. Other people loitered about. Even a few animals. The tables were the focus of the room, with the smaller table at the head of the T raised a couple of feet above the other, on a dais. The head table was sparsely populated, but the lower had some thirty people sitting at it, waiting for the food that was just then being hauled in.
People turned to look at us. A young boy, maybe nine or ten years old, hurried toward us and bowed.
"Good morning, my lords," he said, his voice shaking as if we were the Lords High Executioner.
"Good morning, lad," Parthet said. I managed a greeting of my own-almost as shaky as the boy's.
"This way, my lords." He led us toward the head table.
"Uncle Parker?" I asked under my breath.
"Not now," he whispered. "Not now."
We were seated near the center of the high table, facing the lower. I was placed next to what had to be the king's chair-not a proper throne perhaps, but the fanciest seat around, higher and wider and decorated with fancy carvings. I sat down and Parthet leaned close.
"Tell everyone to sit," he whispered. Everyone at the lower table was standing.
"Sit down, please," I said, feeling very self-conscious. "Don't let me interrupt." They sat, but there wasn't the same murmur of conversation that I had heard from the doorway. The meal wasn't in full swing yet either. Servants were still toting in food.
Food. There was plenty: whole hams, huge bowls of steaming scrambled eggs, greasy fried potatoes, mountains of sausage and bacon, buckets of hot cereal, whole tomatoes and melons, pitchers of juice and coffee, long loaves of still-hot bread.
"I told you they set a good table," Parthet said.
"Looks like." My stomach grumbled in anticipation. I had everything but the mush. Two pages served me larger portions than I would have dreamed of taking myself, and I didn't leave a scrap. I even had seconds on some things. Everything was greasy and highly seasoned except the bread, tomatoes, and melons. The juice was orange and tart. The coffee was bitter and strong. Parthet ate a lot more than I did. He even shoveled in two bowls of mush.
"Where's the king?" I asked.
"Probably sleeping," Parthet whispered. "The last decade he hasn't been nearly as spry as he once was."
"Is he as old as you?"
"Oh, my, no, not by a long patch. He's-let's see-he's my brother's umpty-something-great-grandson. He must be getting close to one hundred and twenty-five, though, and that's pushing it for him, I fear."
"Why is one hundred and twenty-five pushing it for him if you're six hundred and something?"
"I'm a wizard." He stuffed in a couple of mouthfuls of food and dealt with them before he added, "A lot more than six hundred. There are some benefits to the craft, even if you're not very good at it. Initiation confers certain magics that you don't have to muck about with yourself."
I would have continued, but Parthet busied himself loading his platter again, with just as much food as the first time. He had to serve himself, but all I had to do was glance toward a serving tray and those two kids, the pages, rushed to transfer heaping portions to my plate. I was hungry enough not to get too upset by the attention. I didn't even have time to be surprised at how much food I was shoveling in. Finally though, I was filled ready to burst. I pushed my platter away and started to push my chair away from the table. Parthet quickly reached over and stopped me.
"Don't get up or everyone'll think that the meal is over," he said around his food.
I nodded and settled down again. More coffee. A little more of the hot bread. The coffee was rotten enough to make anyone want to fight. I watched the people at the lower table but tried to be inconspicuous about it. I wanted a better feel for this world, wherever it was-whatever it was. Most of the people at the table had to be guards, soldiers, minor court functionaries. Maybe knights. None of them looked very fancy, not like in the movies-you know, King Arthur and Camelot, Robin Hood and Sherwood Forest, that sort of thing
. Some of these jokers looked like common thugs, men that street cops would roust just on general principles. Others looked like winos at a skid-row mission. It was a while before I found out that I wasn't far wrong.
Parthet quit eating, sat up bolt straight, and stared toward the side of the hall. I turned to see what had captured his attention.
"I guess that's it for breakfast," he said, and he sighed.
"Why? Who is it?"
"Baron Kardeen, Lord High Chamberlain." The baron came right to us. Someone had given him the word, because he wasn't surprised to see me.
"Your Highness," he said with a gesture that was more nod than bow. "It's good to finally see you back at court." Back?
"Baron," I said with a nod that was carefully just a fraction less than his. That came naturally.
"Parthet, I see that you can still surprise us on occasion."
"I try. Has His Majesty risen yet?"
"He's up and anxious to see his grandson."
"That's good," Parthet said. "We're anxious to see His Majesty." That seemed to be a proper cue. I stood. So did Parthet-and everyone else.
"Go ahead, keep eating," I said, waving toward the people at the lower table. A few sat down quickly. Others were slower, but by the time Parthet and I left the room, most of the people had returned to their victuals.
We went out a side door, down a corridor, up a broad stairway. There were narrow window openings on the courtyard and on the great hall until we got above the rafters. The stairway climbed another thirty steps before we got to a landing and went along another corridor. This one was lit only by a large window at the far end. We went halfway down the hall before the chamberlain turned to double doors on our right and pushed them open.
Kardeen gestured us through. Inside, no introductions were needed. Parthet went to where Pregel was sitting on the edge of the largest bed I've ever seen and went down on one knee. So did I.
"Get up, get up," Pregel said. His voice was reedy but strong. He did look old, but nothing like one hundred twenty-five. I would have guessed seventy-ish. But what good were my guesses when Parthet claimed to be a lot more than six hundred years old and didn't look much older than fifty?
"It's been a long time, Gil," Pregel said. "I haven't seen you since you were so small you couldn't see across the top of this bed." He glanced at Parthet, then back at me. "You may have been four or five, no more. Your parents thought you were getting too old to bring back all the time without your asking a lot of questions." He shrugged and stood. He was a little taller than me. "They wanted to wait until you were grown to tell you of your heritage. I still think it was the wrong choice, but it was theirs to make. And how you've grown!" He took my by the arm, and we started toward the door. His grip was strong, and he didn't move like one hundred twenty-five and ailing. Parthet and the chamberlain followed us.
"I still know almost nothing about it, Your Majesty," I said. "This crisis. All I had was a note from Mother saying that she thought Dad might be in trouble and she was going to try to rescue him."
"Avedell has always been headstrong," Pregel said. "It runs in the family. Gallops. I wish I could say that the crisis is past, that they've made it back from Castle Thyme, but we've had no word from either of them."
"I think that's why I'm here. I guess it's my turn. And I really don't know where to start."
"If I were a bit younger, I'd saddle up and lead the army after them, or ride along with you myself. But the army, such as it is, is fully occupied in the north, trying to hold back magic with metal. It doesn't work as well as a good wizard would." He didn't raise his voice or look back, but I couldn't miss the rebuke he was directing at Parthet. Neither could Parthet.
"When this is over," I said, "perhaps I can take Parthet back to my world to let an eye doctor fit him with proper glasses."
"Anything to help," Pregel said. Parthet kept silent.
We crossed to a room on the other side of the hall.
"My private dining room," Pregel said, "for days when I don't feel like going up and down steps." The room was thirty feet square. A long table bisected the room. There was a fancy chair at one end and six plainer chairs along each side. As soon as the king arrived, servants started hauling in food through a door in the back corner.
"Will you join me in a little breakfast?" the king asked. I had a notion that it wouldn't be proper etiquette to refuse even though I was stuffed. I didn't need Parthet's discreet throat-clearing behind me.
"I'd be honored," I said.
"It never hurts to fill up the corners," Parthet said.
"We did have a bite downstairs," I said.
Just the three of us sat, with Parthet across the table from me. Pages served us. Kardeen stood at the king's right elbow. He didn't eat, but he didn't seem to be lacking for nourishment. Pregel started on a large platter of food. So did Parthet. The wizard ate as if it had been twenty days since his last meal, not twenty minutes. I ate just a little, and had trouble with that.
"We've had no news at all from Castle Thyme," Pregel said after he had made serious inroads on breakfast. "Your father went some two weeks ago, taking just his squire and two men-at-arms. Your mother came through four days back and set off at once. She didn't even stop to eat. Of course, there really hasn't been time for her to get to Thyme and back. Or scarcely enough. It's two days each way, and that wouldn't leave her time to do anything."
"Her note said she expected to be home yesterday afternoon," I said.
Pregel frowned. "Peculiar. She knows how long the journey takes."
"Could she have planned to use magic doors to get there and back?"
"There are none in or near Castle Thyme. Too risky."
"Perhaps she merely wanted to ensure that Gil would follow as soon as possible," Parthet suggested.
"Could be," I said. "She always used to say it was later than it really was when she was trying to get me up for school."
"Or perhaps she thought the situation would be beyond her ability to handle alone," Parthet said.
"Then I should hurry."
The king nodded. "Parthet, you do plan to accompany him, don't you?"
"Of course, Your Majesty. He knows nothing of our country."
"I don't like this one bit. Turning a stranger loose on such a perilous mission." Pregel stared at me. "I don't like risking my heir like this."
I looked from him to Parthet. Neither was paying any attention to me at the moment. His heir?
"The lad hasn't proved himself," Parthet said. "Much as I like him, you can't know that he will be the heir you need."
"He is my heir," Pregel said firmly.
"You know, Your Majesty," I said, just to remind everyone that I was still in the room, "I still don't know what the hell anyone's talking about."
Three pairs of eyes turned to me.
"You are my only direct male descendant," the king said. "Heir apparent to the throne of Varay."
I don't think anyone heard the muted "Holy shit!" that I just couldn't restrain.
4 – Chamberlain
Pregel groused and pouted by turn. His face got red. He left food on his plate, shoved it away, got up and went to one of the four tall, narrow windows in the room. I got up from the table with relief, Parthet with reluctance. We waited for His Majesty. Baron Kardeen remained as he had been. Waiting seemed to be his natural function. The wait wasn't long, but as usual in uncomfortable situations, it seemed eternal.
"We have to do what we can for my grandson," Pregel finally said without turning away from the window. "I won't risk him alone on this."
"Your Majesty, delay might put my parents at greater risk," I said.
"I know. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here quickly, as fast as may be. I think we can still find horses."
"Yes, Your Majesty," the chamberlain said. Neither of them bothered to ask if I could ride. Maybe they took it for granted, or maybe my parents had talked about my riding-sometime in the past I knew nothing about.
"A
page to attend him and at least one soldier," Pre-gel said, his voice starting to sound almost bitter. "The heir of Varay need an entourage, poor though it might be. And perhaps you can spare an hour to brief the prince and equip him properly."
"At once, Your Majesty," Kardeen said.
We waited some more. "Then get about it, man, while I dress," Pregel said. He came over to me. "When this is over, we'll have to spend some time together, get to know each other while we may."
"I hope to have that opportunity," I said, meaning it.
"I'll see you in an hour then, in the throne room."
I nodded, and the king left the room alone.
There was a moment of silence and then Parthet looked at Kardeen and said, "His health seems much improved."
The baron nodded. "When I told him his grandson was here, he virtually leaped out of bed." Kardeen smiled wanly. "It feels wonderful to give him good news for a change. He's been so besieged by worry lately, especially since the young Etevar seized Castle Thyme."
"If we've only got an hour, shouldn't we get busy?" I asked. I was getting increasingly annoyed at being discussed in the third person all the time, but there was no decent way to make the point, all I could do was toss in my two cents' worth now and then to remind everyone that I was there..
"You're right, of course," Kardeen said easily. "Let's go down to my office."
It was quite a walk, down the stairs we had come up, along the broad corridor past the great hall, through a left turn and along a short corridor, up a shorter flight of steps, thirty yards along another corridor, up another short flight of steps into yet another-but much narrower-short corridor. By my reckoning, we had left the keep and had to be in what I had thought was just a curtain wall, or maybe we were in the large tower at the southeast corner of the courtyard. We went through one office where a clerk was writing-using a long quill on a sheet of parchment the size of a Monopoly board-into a smaller office with a large desk and several chairs. Kardeen indicated chairs and seated himself behind the desk. When he rang a bell, his clerk raced in from the outer office.
