The Hidden Sun (Bariwon Chronicles Book 1)

by J. Lloyd Morgan

  “Then what do you suggest we do to restore the king’s reputation?”

  A smile played across Eliana’s face. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t let Daimh compete against Rinan again.”

  ***

  “The Rabid Dog,” read the large sign over the door. To emphasize the point, the sign also depicted a dog’s face with a foaming mouth. “Lovely,” Captain Wayte muttered.

  He dusted off his shoulders where the lightly falling snow had gathered before he entered the inn. It wasn’t the largest he’d visited during his investigation over the last few months, but the common room was bigger than most, with staircases on either side that led to the second-story rooms.

  An unkempt innkeeper stood at the bar, using a soiled rag to wipe down a spot-stained mug. Wayte wondered if the man wasn’t actually making the mug dirtier. Flashing a grin of rotted teeth, the man asked, “Gitcha drink, Captain?”

  “I am fine, but thank you for offering. I would, however, like to ask you a few questions.” Wayte walked to the bar and took a seat.

  The innkeeper grunted. “Yeah, fine. Whatcha need?”

  Glancing around, Wayte noticed the room was fairly empty. A hunchbacked barmaid was sweeping the wooden floor, and in the corner sat a man in a grungy cloak with his head resting on a table, snoring softly. “Do you remember if a fairly large group of men stayed here a few months ago?” Wayte asked.

  The innkeeper put down the mug he had been drying and grabbed another. “Kinda hard to miss ’em. A dozen or so men, very rowdy, demandin’, and poor tippers.”

  Wayte nodded. “And do you recall why they were staying at the inn?”

  “Didn’t say.” The innkeeper paused to blow his nose with the soiled rag, and then continued wiping the mug. “Jist come in one day, gave us a buncha trouble, and then left in the middle ’o the night. Weird thing is, they’s ain’t never come back, even though their stuffs was still here.”

  “Ah, do you mind if I were to look at what was left behind?” Wayte asked.

  “Bah! Don’tcha understand plain speakin’? I says their stuffs was here. When they’s didn’t come back, I sold their stuffs. They’d never did pay for the rooms, so I don’t feels bad sellin’. It was mainly junk, nothin’ special.”

  Wayte drummed his fingers on the bar. “Hmm. Was there anything out of the ordinary about the men?”

  “Well, they’s was boastin' about ’ow Govern’r Elric wuz gonna make ’em rich, but I never did hear whys. Oh! And they’s asked if they’s could clean the fireplace. I told ’em I wouldn’t pay ’em to do it, but they’s did it anyways.”

  Captain Wayte stood. “Thank you again for your time. You have been most helpful. If you remember anything else, please let one of the local guardians know, and they will get word to me.”

  As Captain Wayte left the room, he heard the innkeeper mumble, “Another poor tipper.”

  ***

  Magistrate Caldre opened the door behind the bar, walked over, and dropped a sack of coins on the counter in front of the innkeeper.

  “You did excellently,” Caldre said. “Remember, if anyone else comes back to ask about the men, tell them the same story.”

  “Not hard to remember. Was all true, ’cept the parts ’bout Govern’r Elric. I thinks they’s says it was Govern’r Abrecan.”

  Caldre shook his head. “No, you must be mistaken. I suggest you remember it as Governor Elric, like I told you. Is that clear?”

  The innkeeper simply nodded, then lifted the rag and blew his nose again.

  ***

  “It was just as you suspected,” said Royal Guardian Dougal, taking off the grungy cloak he had been wearing. “Caldre was there and bribing the innkeeper, who overheard the men saying Governor Abrecan was going to make them rich.”

  Balling his fist and pounding it against the wall, Wayte said, “I knew it. That is the proof we need.”

  Dougal looked out the window of the inn where Wayte was staying. “I would have been back sooner, but I didn’t want to risk suspicion.”

  Wayte patted him on the shoulder. “No, you did fine. Did anyone follow you here?”

  “Not a chance. I worked my way through three inns before I came here. At the last one, I snuck through a back door. If I was being followed, they should believe I am still among the crowd in that common room.”

  “Very good. We will let Caldre believe he has fooled us. That way, he will not harm the innkeeper—we need him alive to testify.” Wayte motioned to his riding outfit that was laid out on the bed. “Get dressed in my clothes and make it fairly obvious that you are headed back to the castle. If you keep your face hidden and wear my gloves to hide your darker skin, they should believe you are me. When you get back to the castle, find Rinan and tell him what we discovered. Do not tell anyone else—I am not sure who else we can trust.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Dougal asked, sitting down and taking off his boots.

  Wayte blew out a deep breath. “I am going to make sure Caldre leaves. Once he does, I am going to visit the innkeeper again, but this time, with an invitation to the castle he cannot refuse.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Eliana woke to a distant tapping. Opening her eyes, she looked around the room, noting it was still dark outside. Next to her, Rinan stirred but then rolled over, swinging one arm over her. She sighed in frustration. Eight months into her pregnancy, she had trouble enough getting comfortable, and it seemed even the smallest of noises kept her from sleeping. She tried taking several deep breaths to relax, but then heard the tapping again.

  “Hmm…what?” Rinan mumbled.

  “You heard it too?”

  He sat up in bed and reached over to the side, where his sword was propped against the wall. “Yes, but I’m not sure what it was,” he said groggily. “I’ll check it out.”

  Eliana held on to his arm. “Wait a moment. Let’s see if we hear it again.”

  The young couple remained still and listened quietly. For several moments, they strained to hear more tapping, but all was quiet—they could only hear each other breathing.

  The silence stretched out until Eliana said, “Perhaps you should go take a look.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right…”

  A firm knock on the door caused them both to jump. After Eliana realized the knock had come from the door to Anemone’s room, she exhaled the breath she had been involuntarily holding.

  Rinan picked up his sword and walked over to the door. Unlatching the lock, he opened the door a crack. “Yes, Anemone?”

  “Are you two going to sleep all day? I thought you’d be up by now,” the nursemaid said.

  “What do you mean? It’s still dark outside.” Rinan opened the door farther, and Anemone walked into the room and over to the window.

  She opened the curtains and revealed a sky of heavily swollen clouds that almost completely hid the light of the sun. “Believe it or not, it is morning. It appears a storm blew in last night and seems to be content with hanging over the castle.”

  Rinan followed Anemone to the window and looked out. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a storm like this. The clouds are so dark and thick—they almost appear hostile.”

  “Well, storm or not, the queen needs to have her breakfast.” Anemone walked over to Eliana’s wardrobe and opened the doors. “It’s my understanding that the king and his father are already at the table, awaiting you.”

  Eliana swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. “Now that is odd. I don’t recall Daimh or Abrecan ever joining us for breakfast before.”

  Assembling the queen’s outfit, the nursemaid said, “That’s because they haven’t.”

  Rinan frowned. “I don’t like it when they surprise us. It usually means they’re up to something.”

  The tapping sounded again as Eliana stood. “Anemone, do you know what’s making that noise?”

  “Yes, they are hanging the new tapestries.”

  Rinan and Eliana looked questioningly at Anemone. “What new ta
pestries?” they asked at the same time.

  ***

  Councilor Abrecan sat majestically on a horse, his chin tilted up and shoulders squared. One hand had a tight grip on the reins while the other held a sword covered in blood.

  “Unbelievable,” Rinan muttered, standing in front of the newly hung tapestry that depicted the scene. “Isn’t this where ‘Rain and Sunshine’ used to be?”

  “Yes,” Eliana said, her voice somewhat distant. “It was here.”

  Bending down, Rinan read the plaque under the silver-and-crimson trimmed tapestry. “It reads, ‘Councilor Abrecan saves the life of King Daimh.’” Rinan straightened and looked up and down the hallway. “Funny, I don’t see a tapestry of what actually happened.”

  Two servants farther down the hall were hanging another tapestry. The one they had removed had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor. The taller and thicker of the servants stood on a stool with a hammer in his hand, pounding on a large iron spike sticking out of the wall.

  Eliana crossed the distance purposefully, with Rinan right behind her. The second servant, a balding, stout little man, saw them approaching and tugged on the pant leg of his partner.

  The servant with the hammer stepped off the stool and bowed. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

  Even though she was upset, Eliana managed a warm smile. “Good morning, Gilroy and Blaine. May I ask who instructed you to hang these new tapestries?”

  The two servants glanced nervously at each other. “We got our orders from Councilor Abrecan, Your Highness,” Gilroy said, fidgeting with the hammer. “He wanted new spikes put in for them.”

  Eliana moved in front of the tapestry, with Rinan following to stand a little behind her. The scene depicted Daimh standing in a battlefield, surrounded by bodies. The king held a large, ornate sword with a gem-inlaid hilt. The title read, “King Daimh, Master Swordsman.”

  “I see,” the queen said. “And did Councilor Abrecan specify which tapestries to remove?”

  “Yes, he was quite clear as to which ones to take down,” Blaine answered.

  Motioning to the ground, Eliana said, “This tapestry depicts the authors of the Tome of Laws. They are more important to Bariwon than any one particular king or queen. It was placed here at the top of the stairs to be a prominent reminder of what these wise men did for all of us. I want you to put it back.”

  Bowing again, both servants responded with “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Eliana exhaled deeply and turned to head down the stairs.

  “Rinan!” someone shouted from down the hallway.

  Both Rinan and Eliana stopped and saw Royal Guardian Dougal jogging toward them, gesturing for Rinan to wait. Rinan walked back to meet up with his fellow guardian, leaving Eliana to wait for him at the top of the stairs. At the same time, the servants had grabbed the tapestry that depicted King Daimh and were pulling on it to take it down. They were stopped when one of the hanging loops got stuck on a spike.

  “Dougal, why are you wearing Captain Wayte’s uniform?” Rinan asked, eyeing his fellow guardian from head to toe.

  “It’s a long story,” Dougal said, somewhat out of breath. “I just got back. I have important news for you from the captain.”

  Gilroy stood on the stool to free the tapestry. Blaine yanked hard just as it was freed from the spike, causing Gilroy to topple backward off the stool. The sound caught Rinan’s attention, and he turned just as Gilroy crashed into Eliana, making her lose her balance. She reached out to grab the banister, but missed and tumbled down the stairs. Her head and back repeatedly hit hard against the stone before she came to a rest at the bottom of the stairs, her body contorted awkwardly.

  Rinan all but flew down the stairs after her, Dougal close behind. Kneeling beside his fallen wife, Rinan lifted her head gently. She was breathing, but unconscious.

  “Get Anemone—and hurry!” he told Dougal.

  ***

  “Pick her up carefully and get her to a bedroom,” Anemone instructed, her heart racing. Gilroy and Blaine went to lift the queen, but Rinan stopped them. “No, we’ll take her,” he said, motioning to Dougal to help him.

  Anemone addressed the crestfallen servants. “Go get Priest Sherwyn. Tell him to come here quickly.”

  The two guardians lifted Eliana gently and carried her broken form to a bedroom just down the hall from the end of the stairs. She was still unconscious, and her breathing was becoming shallow. Anemone instructed them to place her on the bed.

  “Dougal, stand outside and don’t let anyone in except Sherwyn,” the nursemaid said firmly. “I don’t need to be distracted by any of the nobles.”

  Rinan stood next to the bed, holding his wife’s hand, and looking toward Anemone for guidance. For the next few moments, she examined Eliana. She felt the queen’s head and grimaced at what she discovered. “I won’t lie to you, Rinan,” Anemone said. “She is hurt very badly. I’m not sure there is anything that can be done.”

  “There must be something…” Rinan said, his eyes pleading.

  The door opened and Priest Sherwyn stepped in, closing the door behind him. “Oh, dear,” he said as he saw Eliana on the bed.

  ***

  Dougal stood outside the door, stoically looking over the crowd that had gathered in the hallway.

  “I’m sorry, but Nursemaid Anemone made it clear that no one else was to enter,” he said to Councilor Abrecan, who had arrived right after Priest Sherwyn. Abrecan was flanked by King Daimh and Magistrate Caldre, the latter looking rather tired and disheveled.

  “Ridiculous. We need to know what’s happening. Is my grandchild all right?” Abrecan blustered.

  Dougal matched Abrecan’s stare. “Your concern for the queen is touching, Councilor. I’m sure Anemone will give us information when she can. Right now, she doesn’t need any distractions.”

  Caldre stepped forward. Tilting his head to one side, he looked Dougal over. “Royal Guardian Dougal, why are you wearing Captain Wayte’s uniform?”

  The guardian felt the blood drain from his face. When he regained his composure, he said, “Now is not the time, Magistrate.”

  “You realize there is a law against impersonating a higher-ranking guardian, correct?” Caldre folded his arms and sneered.

  Standing up straighter, Dougal said, “I am not at liberty to discuss this subject at the moment. When Captain Wayte returns, he will explain.”

  Caldre’s eyes lit up with understanding. He nodded and motioned for Abrecan to follow him away from the crowd. Dougal saw Caldre talking to the councilor and motioning adamantly with his hands. Abrecan turned to look at Dougal and glared.

  Abrecan and Caldre walked down the hall and out of sight. In the meantime, the group of nobles and servants that had gathered was consoling the king. He, in return, was assuring them that even if something happened to the queen, the kingdom was in good hands. To Dougal, it seemed the king was feasting on the attention.

  Dougal thought he heard crying from behind the thick oak door he guarded, but the sound of the people surrounding him was loud enough that he couldn’t be sure. After several moments, everyone’s attention turned to see Councilor Abrecan walking back to the area with Caldre and a couple of guardians in tow.

  The crowd parted to allow them in. Abrecan pointed to Dougal and said, “Guardians, take him to the dungeon for impersonating Captain Wayte. Make sure he speaks to no one.” Dougal noted that the two guardians with Abrecan were both from Erd. He started to say something, but Abrecan interrupted him. “Not a word!”

  The guardians took Dougal by the arms and forced him away from the door.

  “Now, let’s see what is going on,” Abrecan said, reaching for the door.

  Before he touched the handle, the door swung open and Priest Sherwyn came out. His eyes were red and puffy and his shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry to announce that Queen Eliana and her unborn child are dead.”

  ***

  “Remember me?” Captain Wayte asked.

  The inn
keeper looked up from the tip jar and eyed him. “Ya, wuz only yesterday. Kinda hard to forgit when the capt’n o’ the guardians comes a visitin’.”

  “I guess that is true,” Wayte said. “And speaking of the truth, I would like to ask you if you remember anything differently from when we last spoke.”

  Wayte sat down at the bar. In the morning hours, there were several patrons sitting at the tables to eat breakfasts the hunchbacked barmaid was serving. No one else was sitting at the bar, but at that time of the day, the captain mused that most of the regulars were still sleeping off the effects of the night before.

  The innkeeper paused for a moment, then picked up the tip jar and put it in front of Wayte. “Maybes I remember somethin’, and maybes not.”

  Looking down at the ceramic jar that held a dozen or so coins, Wayte nodded. Then, in a quick motion, he stood and grabbed the back of the innkeeper’s head and slammed it against the bar, causing the tip jar to fall to the floor. It shattered and spilled its contents, much to the joy of the people in the common room, who moved to snatch the coins.

  Wayte leaned over the bar. Grabbing the innkeeper’s arm and twisting it behind his back, Wayte said in a menacing voice, “Here is your tip—unless you want to spend the rest of your life playing bartender to rats in the castle dungeon, you will tell me who was actually behind the attacks on the royal family.”

  ***

  Something was wrong. Wayte could not quite put his finger on it, but something was definitely not right. Riding down the street to the castle gates, leading the bound and gagged innkeeper on a horse behind him, Wayte puzzled on why he felt uneasy. Even though the streets were generally quiet during the evening hours, it was quieter than normal. The only sound was the snow crunching under the hoofs of the horses. Come to think of it, Wayte didn’t recall seeing anyone since he had entered the town that surrounded the castle.