The Nightstone

by Wil Ogden

  “It is looking less and less like I’m an innkeeper anymore,” Tara said. “It’s not like I can go back to living in Ignea if I’m going to be alone there.”

  “I’m with you wherever you go,” Thomas said.

  “Ignea is the absolute worst place for a bard to base from,” Tara said. “You need somewhere more central to the trade routes. Sheillene is based out of the Rampant Gelding so she can travel pretty much anywhere and everywhere.”

  “So I’ll buy you an inn in Fork,” Thomas said.

  “You’re poor,” Tara said.

  “I won’t always be,” Thomas said. “There’s another me running around who is much older than me, he’s probably made a few pennies in his long and strange life. When I’m that Thomas, I’ll use my money to buy you an inn. If I remember to, I already did. Well, the other me already did, if he remembered. There was an old building between the Rampant Gelding and the west gate that looked like it might have been an inn at some point. I bought that for you.”

  “You did?” Tara asked.

  “Well not me, but the other me.” Thomas shrugged. “If I remembered, and it doesn’t sound like I’m the forgetful type.”

  Pantros tried to blink away his confusion. His sister seemed accustomed to the idea of two Thomases.

  “I liked my staff, James and Bouncer and even Dale, though he ate and drank more than I paid him. At least his consumption was predictable,” Tara said.

  “We can send for them,” Thomas said. “It’s not like they have to take the dangerous overland route.”

  “Couldn’t you arrange all this in your future so that we can avoid all the hassles and just move away when my parents died?” Tara asked.

  “And let my older self be the one who gets to be married to you?” Thomas said. “I think things are how they are for a reason.”

  “That sounds like the wine talking.” Tara tapped a bottle sitting on the seat beside Thomas.

  “To me it sounds like I haven’t been drinking enough,” Thomas said. “Shall we discuss potential names for your new inn?”

  §

  At the gates to Melnith, a guard urged them to bypass the lines of people waiting to gain entry to the city. Once to the gates, the guards saluted and let them pass.

  “I guess being in a royal family’s carriage has benefits?” Pantros asked.

  “I’ll say,” Sheillene said. “From the looks of it, that line looks like it could take almost a day to get everyone through the gates.”

  Looking out the window he could see the streets were packed with people and farm animals. Unlike Fork, most of the people in Melnith didn’t look like they were going anywhere. “And then where would they go?” Pantros asked.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Faren asked. He was inside the carriage, resting while David drove. “I have an uncle with an Inn in the River Quarter. That’s where I was planning to go.”

  “We have a missive for Prince Reginald of Relarch,” Sheillene said. “He’ll be at the palace, so that’s where we’re going first. I don’t think it’s much of a walk from the palace to the River Quarter, and with the streets this crowded, you can move faster on foot than in a carriage.”

  Faren nodded, “And you need to get that cursed stone to somewhere safe.”

  “We’d been hoping to get to Vehlos,” Pantros said. “That trip seems unlikely from here. Maybe we can get help from the King here. Surely Reginald could help us get to talk to King…um, I don’t know the Abvi king’s name.”

  “Allaind,” Sheillene said. “King Allaind of Melnith. He has two children, Prince Aven the First Tempest and Princess Adria, whom I’ve met frequently in the city’s Hunter’s Guildhall.”

  “The Princess is a bounty hunter?” Pantros asked.

  “She’s an archer, she won the Silver Vanes the year I didn’t enter,” Sheillene said. “She hunts animals and such, but I don’t think she’s ever claimed a bounty. I don’t think she’s a master in the guild.”

  “And Prince Aven is the First Tempest? Could he help with the gem?” Pantros asked.

  “He might be able to, he’s about as powerful as Tempests get,” Sheillene said. “They are not usually as studied in artifacts as the Mages are, though. The Sorcerers might be able to help. With Thomas’s sister there, we might be able to talk to someone important. They should at least be able to point to someone else in the city.”

  Marc asked, “What if the Vulak aren’t just raiding, what if they’re after the gem?”

  “A whole army of Vulak?” Pantros said. “They couldn’t be after this.” He patted his pocket. “Could they?”

  “I’m going to have to hop out and check on something,” Sheillene said. “Pan, I trust you with my pack. My lute is in there so don’t lose it or break it.” She grabbed her bow and hopped out of the carriage, which was still moving slower than the people on the streets were walking.

  “Wasn’t she our ticket into the palace?” Marc asked.

  “I think the carriage will be sufficient to get us in,” Pantros said. “David should be able to get us close to Reginald, and if needed, he can get us an audience with King Allaind, I’m sure. I doubt it will come to that. I expect Sheillene to be back by the time we reach the palace.”

  §

  Banners of a golden starburst on a blue background flew over the palace. Guards stood spaced sparsely along the top of the walls and several stood in front of the gates. Sheillene did return to the carriage as they approached the palace gates. “Bad news,” Sheillene said. “According to the Hunter’s Guild, the Vulak are converging on Melnith and looking specifically for the Nightstone. Something about a tribute their new god, Redevul.”

  “Red devil?” Pantros asked.

  “Close enough,” Sheillene said. “It seems that gem of yours is causing problems.”

  “Should we give it to the Vulak?” Pantros asked. He didn’t think it sounded like a good idea to do so, but he hated the idea of being responsible for a whole nation being overrun by Vulak.

  “Most certainly not,” Sheillene said. “The hint in their new god’s name is just not subtle and we already know what will happen if a demon gets his claws on that stone. A Vulak invasion would be a gentle breeze compared to the cyclone of a demonic invasion.”

  “We’re here,” David called from the driver’s seat.

  Pantros leaned out the window. Half a dozen guards approached the carriage and the palace gates were closed. “Why aren’t they opening the gates?” Pantros asked.

  “Entry to the Palace is by invitation only until the crisis passes,” the guard closest to Pantros answered. The armor the guard was wearing was trimmed in gold, unlike the armor of the other guards.

  “We’re here on official kingdom business,” Pantros said.

  The guard approached the window. “That’s the same thing the last thousand people I turned away said. Unless you have King Reginald in there, you are not coming through.”

  Sheillene stepped out of the carriage and approached the guard. “Captain Ghovan, I bear a missive from Prince Estephan to his brother. I am charged with delivering it, in person.”

  “Sheillene, it’s good to see you again,” Ghovan said. “I can let you in, but your associates will not be allowed to enter.”

  “The people in the carriage include a Knight of Relarch, Thomas Boncanta and a king.” Pantros heard Sheillene whisper, “of sorts.” After the royal title.

  “King?” The guard asked. “Which king?”

  Sheillene gestured to Pantros, “This is The King of Legerdemain.”

  The guard’s looked at Pantros a moment then bowed, “Your Highness, my apologies.” He stepped away from the carriage and motioned to the guards by the gate. They pulled the gates open. “Welcome to Melnith, Your Highness, I hope you enjoy our hospitality.”

  Pantros nodded, trying not to look surprised.

  After they passed through the gates, Pantros asked Sheillene, “Legerdemain? Where is that? I don’t mind lying, but I should know mor
e if I’m to play a role.”

  “It’s not a where, but like you, the Guard didn’t seem to know that,” Sheillene said. “Legerdemain is the art of the pickpocket; it means sleight-of-hand. You are recognized as the King of Thieves; so really, there wasn’t a lie, just a juxtaposition of a title of nobility for one of recognition.”

  “Bards know too many big words,” Pantros said.

  “There are no big words,” Sheillene said with a grin, “just small minds.”

  “Now you’re insulting kings?” Pantros asked.

  Sheillene just chuckled.

  David pulled the carriage to the palace’s main door. Men and women in royal livery scurried about the carriage, setting stepping blocks in front of the doors.

  An Abvi in a fine doublet, also of the royal blue and gold, stood by a blue carpet rolled out to the step. When the travelers stepped out of the carriage, he asked, “I am Hijal, Assistant Seneschal of the Royal Palace. Who shall I say has arrived?”

  “Sheillene of Whisperwillow,” Sheillene introduced herself. “And her esteemed companions.”

  Pantros guessed they didn’t need to exaggerate their nobility now that they were past the gates. The guards were long out of earshot.

  “Would that be Lady Sheillene,” Hijal asked.

  “I’m not a noble,” Sheillene said. “If you need a title, you can use ‘Master’ or ‘Mistress’.” Sheillene pulled out a bronze medallion she had tucked under her armor. It had a symbol including a bow and spear, the symbol of the Hunter’s Guild.

  Hijal looked at Sheillene’s medallion then at her face for a moment then at the guards by the gates.

  “I have a royal missive from King Reginald for Prince Reginald,” Sheillene said.

  Hijal looked a little relieved for a moment then the panic returned to his face when he asked, “Will you be staying in the palace?”

  Sheillene put her hand on the seneschal’s shoulder. “Were that the only order of important business we had, no, but we have other matters and once the King is aware of them, he will undoubtedly wish us to remain his guests.”

  “I’ll have quarters arranged. How many of you are there?” Hijal asked.

  “Faren,” Sheillene asked the innkeeper, “Are you heading out to your cousin’s?”

  “I would like to stay, the palace is tempting, but I’d not feel comfortable in a place so beyond my station,” Faren said. “I’ll be taking my leave of you here. I owe you all. My inn is your second home, if it’s still there once the Vulak are dispersed.” He gave a sleight bow then walked off towards the gates.

  Sheillene turned back to Hijal and said, “Seven, and one of us is big, half-ogre, I think.”

  “I’m not half-ogre,” Marc said.

  “You may as well be,” Hijal said. “I don’t think we have beds that big.” The seneschal then went over to the attendants unloading the carriage. “Take their luggage to Reginald’s servant’s quarters. Take their weapons as well.” He pointed to Marc and Sheillene. Marc had his swords strapped to his back and Sheillene, as always, held her unstrung bow in her hand. A rack of arrows were clipped to the bow.

  “No one touches my bow but me,” Sheillene said. “And I keep it with me at all times.”

  “We cannot allow weapons in the palace proper,” The seneschal said. “As long as you…”

  Sheillene cut the seneschal off, “I think you are forgetting that I am the kingdom archery champion. That makes me part of the king’s honor guard. I would be obligated to have my bow with me in his presence.”

  “You are, aren’t you?” Hijal said. “I’ve seen you twice on stage and a dozen times at the tournament. I’ve never seen you here in the palace. Forgive my forgetfulness.”

  “Politics does not make for exciting stories,” Sheillene said.

  “We’ll still need to take the half-ogre’s weapons to the armory,” Hijal said.

  “My name is Marc, Marc Williams, and I’m not part ogre.” Marc unslung his swords and handed them to an attendant. Bryan did the same with his greatsword.

  David also handed his sheathed sword to the attendant. “Don’t lose this; it was my father’s.”

  “Milord, your sword?” Hijal said, pointing to Pantros’s hip.

  “I don’t think the sword would appreciate me letting you have it, even temporarily,” Pantros said. “He’s quite moody.”

  Sheillene again intervened. “It’s an ensouled sword.”

  “And the boy is human?” Hijal asked. “You’re right; we can’t take an ensouled sword. An ensouled sword would never allow itself to be used to threaten a king.” Hijal then stepped over to one of the attendants and said. “Make sure their rooms have baths prepared. I am certain they will want to have their clothing laundered, see that it gets done with haste.”

  Pantros had gotten used to the stench of a handful of people stuck in a carriage for six days. Being reminded, he suddenly worried about the impression he was making on the King’s attendants.

  Marc said dourly, “If we’re talking baths, I suppose this is where we make another half-ogre joke, since I doubt there is a tub in the palace to fit me.”

  Hijal looked at Marc and sighed. “We have a dock on the river near your quarters. The river water is kept clean by several Tempests.”

  “I’ll be fine with a bowl of water and a towel,” Bryan said.

  “Your room attendant can see to that,” Hijal said. He then pointed to an attendant standing by them. “Tethen will see you to your rooms now.”

  §

  Tethen hadn’t spoken to them beyond saying, “This way,” or “Left just ahead,” during the walk to their rooms. Pantros had tried to engage him about the construction of the palace and who had designed the layout. As they walked, Pantros couldn’t help but notice the planning of the guests’ quarters being nearly separated from the main palace. They passed through two grand halls and had an opportunity to glance into the king’s great hall. They passed several nobles, none of whom did more than glance at them.

  The quarters they were given were in the basement beneath a building connected to the palace only by a covered walkway. They were told that Prince Reginald was staying alone in the house above and that he didn’t have any servants staying with him.

  More royal attendants arrived, drawing baths for them and taking all the clothing they could get away with. Only Sheillene had kept a clean dress in her pack, having worn only her armor every day on the road. Those that didn’t have spare clothing were measured and an attendant was sent into the city to find clothing for them. Pantros made sure that attendant took his gold to spend and not the king’s.

  When an attendant arrived to tell them of the impending evening meal, they had just finished donning fresh clothing.

  “I still think this kilt is a curtain with a belt,” Marc said. He was the only one not completely pleased with the new clothing.

  The rest of them reveled in the soft cottons and silks of the Abvi clothing. The attendant had purchased clothing that closely matched in color what each person had been wearing. The black silk shirt they’d gotten Pantros fit a little loosely, but was far lighter than any silk he’d been able to find in Ignea.

  “Abvi are patient,” Sheillene said. “They can take the time to make their cloth with a finer weave. Someone probably spent the better part of a week weaving the silk that became that shirt.

  Bryan took the Abvi clothing but still insisted on wearing his armor over it. He had taken the time to clean the armor, getting much of the odor out. “It has my rank insignia,” Bryan said, pointing to his epaulet. “I don’t want to be the only one in the room without a title.”

  Pantros shook his head and said, “You’re going to be the only one in the room with a title other than the Champion Archer over here.

  The attendant led them back to the palace and into a huge dining hall. Over a hundred people, almost all Abvi, sat at rows of table crowded with plates of food.

  Tethen met them at the door and pointed to the King’
s table. A silver haired Abvi sat at the center of a table on a raised step at the end of the room. “Bow,” Tethen said.

  They all bowed or curtsied and Tethen continued, “The human two seats to the King’s right is Prince Reginald. He’s been informed of your arrival, though he did seem confused at most of your names, as if he’d never heard of any of you except Sir David Norda.” Tethen then pointed to a group of empty seats close to the head table. “Your seats are there,” he said. “Enjoy the meal.”

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” Sheillene said. She pulled the missive from her pouch and headed towards the Prince.

  “Um,” Tethen said, stepping after her. He stopped and turned back to Pantros, “She shouldn’t be going there, it’s against protocol.”

  “And she’s armed,” Norda said. “Two gold says she makes it to the Prince, leaving two of the King’s bodyguards on the floor, one bleeding.”

  “I’ll take the bet,” Pantros said, “Only because I don’t think there will be blood.”

  “Me too,” Marc said.

  “You don’t have two gold coins,” Thomas said.

  “Pan will cover me,” Marc shrugged.

  Pantros nodded, realizing the exchange was less gambling and more camaraderie.

  “Does it affect the outcome if I help her?” Bryan asked.

  “Only for you,” David said. “Sheillene would side with the bodyguards if you got involved. Remember the part about her being the King’s Archery Champion? She’s only going to get away with this because she can know that she is not an actual threat.”

  Several Guards rushed to intercept Sheillene. The guards wore thin mail that chimed when it slammed into the floor as Sheillene rolled a guard that had tried to tackle her over her shoulders. A second guard fell when Sheillene spun and kicked low, taking the guards legs out from under him.

  “Let her be,” The king spoke loudly. “She is no threat to me.”

  The approaching guards all stopped where they were, but did not return to their posts.

  “Your Majesty,” Sheillene said. “Thank you.”