“I raise a toast to the man who I’ve known these past few hours, whose abilities in battle fought off attacks by three pirate ships in the course of our approach to Seafare. He knows how to wage war, and yet his words call for peace. Here’s to our prince!” she called out, and she clinked her glass against Kestrel’s, which was still raised.
Throughout the room the people at the tables stood and toasted, relieved to have a neutral yet positive toast to respond to.
“You’re a better diplomat than I am,” Kestrel gently murmured, seeing that for the moment the tension in the room had been defused.
“Kiss me,” Moorin instructed him.
“What? Now?” his head reared back.
“I just gave a toast that complimented you, and you’re madly in love with me, so show the people your depth of infatuation, and kiss me,” she told him, turning to face him.
He closed his eyes, and realized that though his heart had been racing before, it was pounding wildly in his chest now, while his face felt flushed and warm. He put his glass on the table and took her glass from her hand to place it on the table too, then wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips against hers, and he bent over her and dipped her backwards, making the man beside her shift out of the way.
His lips were firmly against hers, and he felt her lips part slightly. And then he thought he heard his name – Kestrel – being called, and he raised himself upward, still kissing Moorin as he lifted her as well. He finished the kiss, and looked around. The room was breaking out in raucous applause, but he saw no one who could have known who he was, or would have called his name.
Moorin was looking at him with an indecipherable expression. Then spoke. “Now is the time to leave. Give them something cheerful to remember as you part. Leave the party on a high note,” she said discreetly.
Kestrel nodded at her wisdom. “Are you ready to go?” he asked as he looked at her, and watched her give a tiny nod.
He raised his hand over his head, and the room grew quieter. “Thank you all for being here tonight, and for your friendship. Moorin and I have had a long day, and will retire now for the night, but all of you are welcome to remain and enjoy our hospitality.” He took Moorin’s hand and began to lead her from the hall, as another round of applause and catcalls arose in the room.
A bevy of servants were caught flat-footed by the unexpected departure and ran after Kestrel. “My lord, do you wish to have the rest of your meal delivered to your rooms?” a maid asked in a fearful tone.
“What was for dessert?” Kestrel asked with a smile as they stopped in the hall.
“Strawberries, my lord,” the woman replied.
“Do you like strawberries?” Kestrel asked Moorin.
“More than anything else,” she smiled back at him.
“Would you please bring the strawberries up to Lady Moorin’s room?” Kestrel asked. “Enough for two of us?” he clarified, then led Moorin on the way as they walked back to the residential wing, accompanied by two guards. Kestrel wondered who had assigned the guards, and what their purpose was, but he asked no questions as they reached Moorin’s suite and entered the room.
“This is a nightmare,” Moorin moaned as she sat down on the bed.
“What are you doing here, and what are your plans? Or will you just keep going from provocation to provocation until they react and imprison you or kill you?” she asked. “And what happens to me if you die? For that matter, what happens to me if you live?”
And at that moment Kestrel realized whose voice he had heard in the banquet hall.
Dewberry!” he said out loud excitedly. “Dewberry, Dewberry!”
“What are you babbling?” Moorin asked.
Kestrel didn’t answer, as he looked around the room expectantly. He waited for long, silent seconds.
“Kestrel?” Moorin snapped her fingers. “Ruelin?”
“I thought a sprite was going to come visit us,” Kestrel said softly, as he held his hand aloft in a gesture to forestall interruption.
“We can’t count on little blue people showing up to save us Kestrel. This is a serious situation. We’re two people alone who have to rely on each other against everyone else in the palace if we’re going to stay alive, Kere help me that I must rely upon you of all people. And some of these people are crazy! When Namber was in here earlier, he was telling me that I had been his guest at his palace in Graylee, rescued after pirates caught my ship.”
“He’s almost right,” Kestrel turned to face her.
“Last year, there was a woman in the Graylee palace who looked exactly like you,” Kestrel said softly, walking over towards Moorin and squatting on the floor so that he looked at her eye-to-eye as she sat on the edge of her bed. “She spoke like you. She even kissed like you.
“She was you, in every way; she knew the details of your life and she told the story of being kidnapped by pirates on the way to Seafare, then given away and held at the Graylee palace by an infatuated Namber.
“I was waging war against Namber in the palace at that time, setting some prisoners free, and I was injured. I tried to hide in a little house on the palace grounds that turned out to be your refuge, and you – or she – hid me there. We escaped together,” he told her, “and we were fleeing east. I promised that I was going to send you back to Kirevee. On the journey we traveled together, and hid together, and lived together for days and days and days.
“And we fell in love and agreed to plan to become engaged,” he looked away from her as he spoke, embarrassed, wondering why he was letting all of this spill out in front of her.
“But in Hydrotaz we were hunted down by elf-haters, and then I surrendered myself to try to save you, but the Moorin that I was with turned into a Viathin, a monster, an advanced form of the lizard monsters we saw in that pool, and in the battle it died,” he hung his head.
“And that’s the story of you, to me, and to Namber in a sense, the story of the Moorin we both knew, used as bait to ensnare us both into loving the most beautiful woman who ever lived. There was a perfect replica of you, and I was in love with you, and it said it loved me. But now here you are, the real you, and the memory of that relationship is completely meaningless to you, even while it consumes and drives me; and I’m not even in my own body, and this is a mess. And the real you, a wonderful, witty, intelligent, beautiful woman, you have no love for me at all,” he mumbled, then looked up in surprise as they heard the door to the suite open, and moments later the serving lady wheeled in a cart with a large plate of strawberries, bowls and spoons, and a pitcher of cream.
“As you requested, your highness,” she did not make eye contact, but quickly curtsied and exited from the room.
Kestrel casually strolled over and picked up a handful of strawberries and brought them back to his position as he squatted in front of Moorin again. He pulled one strawberry out, and watched as Moorin raised her head and opened her mouth wide.
“It’s like feeding a baby bird,” he said. With a forced smile, while feeling despondent over having revealed his misled infatuation to her, he popped the strawberry into her mouth and watched her enjoy eating the fruit. As soon as she was done she opened her mouth again, and Kestrel fed her a second strawberry.
“You should dip them in the cream,” she murmured. He walked over and brought the pitcher, then did as she suggested. She made a small sound of contentment as she ate the berry, and a drop of juice escaped from the corner of her mouth. Kestrel carefully reached across to press it upward with his finger, and then brushed the tip against her lips, and let her tongue wipe his finger clean.
His breath was coming faster he realized, and her own cheeks were faintly blushed.
“You loved me when you thought you knew me?” she asked in a husky voice. “With all your heart and soul?”
“I did,” he answered.
“And what about me? Did I love you back?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t think she – her – you did as much as I loved you.
You were afraid. You’d been engaged twice already in the year, and you didn’t know what exactly was right – you didn’t trust your own heart,” he admitted, and then looked away from her upon hearing a loud banging at the door.
“Prince Ruelin, you are placed under observation by the Royal Council,” A gruff voice spoke, and the sound of the door opening was followed by the stamp of boots, and a half dozen soldiers entered Moorin’s room.
Kestrel stood slowly and looked at the officer in charge. “What does that mean?”
“We are ordered to take you to your observatory in the tower, and to make sure you stay there,” the major said.
“And then what will happen?” Kestrel asked.
“Your majesty, I do not know, and I will not decide,” the man was clearly nervous about the role he played.
“Will my betrothed come with me?” Kestrel felt fear starting to creep into his soul, as he began to realize what could be on the verge of happening.
“We have no orders concerning her. She will remain here,” the officer said. Kestrel let his hand grope down to find Moorin’s hand and clasp it tightly. “Do I have your pledge that she will be treated respectfully and kept safe?” he asked.
“Sir, I have orders respecting only moving you to the tower,” the officer underscored.
“Then I want you to post two men at her door to keep her safe until I come back. In return, I pledge I will give you no trouble on the way to the tower. Do you have the decency to do that?” Kestrel’s voice sounded harsh in his own ears.
The man looked at two men and motioned. “They will remain here until dawn, outside her door, to assure your lady’s safety,” the officer conceded.
Kestrel turned towards Moorin, who quickly stood. “Ruelin,” she said, then as they embraced, she whispered in his ear, “Kestrel, I don’t want you to go.”
“I see no way to stop this, and under these circumstances, you’ll be safe,” Kestrel answered quietly.
“But you won’t. Oh, I don’t want you to go. You don’t deserve this,” Moorin began to cry.
“Your majesty, we must go now,” the officer interrupted.
“I’ll return as soon as I can,” Kestrel told Moorin. He bent his face down to hers. “Don’t let them see you cry,” he whispered, then he kissed her lips, and pulled away from her, as she turned to face the window and hide her tears.
The walk to the tower was silent, and brief. Only five minutes were needed to travel the corridors to where a squad of guards stood outside a metal door set in cut stones. Kestrel was escorted to the top, to an empty room where there was only a table with a candle and a pair of chairs, and four windows looking out over the moonlit palace grounds. The officer left without saying anything to Kestrel, who knew how bad a sign the man’s silence was.
Kestrel walked around the inside circle of the tower room, looking out each window. From the fourth window he could see the glass-enclosed pool where the Viathins were resting. If I had Lucretia I could possibly hit them from here, he thought to himself. The thought sunk in, and he raised his head with hope for the first time in hours. “Lucretia!” he called out loud, then sat down at a table to wait.
There was no telling whether the knife, the enchanted knife, would respond to his call when it came from the strange, human, foreign body, but there was hope. Kestrel couldn’t fathom how distant the knife might be, and how long the trip to his hand might take, but he prayed that he had set it in motion, so that he could look forward to having his marvelous weapon in his hands again.
The time seemed to pass ever so slowly as he sat and waited for the knife to arrive, and his hope began to falter. In desperation, he began to wonder what else he could do to save his life.
“Dewberry,” he called again. “Dewberry, Dewberry, Dewberry, Dewberry,” he chanted slowly, over and over again.
And suddenly the sprite was in the room with him! She appeared in midair, in the middle of the room, and stared at him. “Where is Kestrel?” she demanded in elvish. “I felt him call me from here.”
“I may not look the same, but I am Kestrel, Dewberry dearest,” he replied in the same language as he leapt to his feet.
“I know my Kestrel, and you are not him! Where is he hiding?” the sprite floated away from Kestrel, keeping her distance.
“Who rescued you from the wolf at the healing spring when you had that rash on your arm? Who did you steal an arrow for at the elven archery tournament at Center Trunk? Who did you call upon the first time Jonson tried to fight a monster lizard, and got bit nearly in two?” Kestrel fired out the questions.
“I know these things because I am Kestrel!” he answered for her. “I am your true friend, the one who would marry you, or at least ravish you, if only you were large enough! What do you think makes me want to take you to the healing spring waters so often?” he grinned at the sprite.
“Kestrel?” she said softly. “That is Kestrel’s smile! The body is wrong, and the face is wrong, and the voice is wrong, but that is your smile! I’ve found you at last!”
There was a clatter at the window, and Lucretia came bouncing off the window frame and flew into his hand.
“And there’s the last proof I could ask for!” she said, and she flew at Kestrel and clung to him in a desperate hug.
“You do not smell as good in this body, Kestrel friend,” she told him. “What has happened to you?”
“Yet you look and smell better than ever, my heart of hearts,” Kestrel told her. “I can always count on your love. Did you call for me earlier this evening? I thought I heard your voice.”
“I know that in your dreams you surely hear my voice, besotted Kestrel love, but I did in fact yearn for you not long ago as well. Where is this dreary place? Why are you here?” Dewberry asked. “Did you turn down the advances of some importune matriarch and tell her that she could not match my youthful bloom? Has she punished you with this imprisonment?”
“I am here awaiting my execution, I fear, and a woman who I love is elsewhere in the palace, in grave danger. And there are monster lizards nearby, spreading their poisonous evil powers,” Kestrel answered. “The world did not look like a good place until you and Lucretia arrived. Now I know it will be alright.”
“Lucretia? Lucretia? Kestrel dolt, you should have said only me! You should think of only me! Forget the knife! I am your paramount paramour, silly elf,” Dewberry said affectionately.
“Now, what must I do to save you from this predicament you’ve gotten yourself into?” she asked.
“If you can call Stillwater and the others to come, please tell them to bring a staff and a bow and arrows,” he said. “And ask them if they can find Wren, and bring my cousin as well.”
“You want Wren?” Dewberry confirmed. “Not the Margo human?”
“Yes,” Kestrel assured her.
“Not Picco, the human girl with who you ooh la la?”
“No,” Kestrel blushed. There was a slamming sound of a door somewhere in the tower.
“Not Lucretia, or the wonderful doctor elf, Alicia, or even the first human girl, Merilla? Only Wren?” the sprite continued to toy with the elf.
“Please Dewberry!” Kestrel pleaded. “That may be the executioner coming.”
“Stillwater is already with Wren, and he has told her to grab weapons for you and prepare,” Dewberry assured Kestrel. They should be here about,” she paused, and suddenly Wren arrived with her escort of imps, now.”
“Kestrel, is that truly you? This is what Ruelin’s body appears as?” Wren faced him and studied him carefully as she spoke in the human tongue. “It’s not a bad look; he’s not an unattractive fellow. I’d say you traded up.” She paused, then grinned.
“Why did you call me here?” she asked, “And how do I know you’re really Kestrel?”
What was Kestrel’s mother’s name?” she asked.
“Merepoule,” he replied.
“Who is the arms trainer at Firheng?” Wren fired back.
“Arlen,” Kestre
l said shortly. “Now listen,” they heard the sound of boots on the stairs.
“Those are probably executioners coming up the stairs for me.”
“How do I know you don’t deserve that?” Wren asked with a straight face.
“I’ve insulted Namber of Graylee, who is here in exile, comfortable exile, and I’ve challenged the rule of Uniontown’s values,” Kestrel answered. “I want to fight off these executioners, then I want to go kill the Viathins that live in this palace, and then I need to go find a friend in the palace as soon as possible,” he explained.
“A particular friend?” Wren asked.
“Yes,” Kestrel closed his eyes, then heard the boots reach the landing outside his door. Wren threw a staff to him, and moved herself behind where the door opened, while motioning for Kestrel to move to the far side of the room.
“All of you, up there,” she gestured to the ceiling space above the door as she gave the imps directions in elvish, and they moved there just as the door opened.
Seven men entered the room, none of them familiar to Kestrel; two of them held drawn swords, and they all bore grim looks. “My lord, your time has ended,” the leader of the group said.
“Do you mean to slay me?” Kestrel asked.
“We are ordered to do so, promptly and painlessly if possible,” the guard leader said.
Kestrel flipped Lucretia at the man, then charged at the group with his staff held ready, as Wren clubbed a man from behind with her staff, and stabbed another with her sword. The imps descended upon two other men, distracting them by pulling their hair and jabbing small knives at their faces, so that in less than a minute the members of the execution squad were dead or disabled.
“That worked well. Thank you for some exercise, Kestrel,” Wren said. “Life has been decidedly more boring while you were not around.”
“How did it happen that the imps found you so quickly?” Kestrel asked as they bound up the wounded prisoners.
“I was on a ship,” she spoke in elvish again, so that their wounded captives would not understand them, “with the imps, and Creata and Picco and Ruelin. We were sailing on our way here to find you, to find his body,” she answered. “Our ship is only about two days away.”
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 04 - A Foreign Heart Page 35
