by Allan Cole
Hard knuckles rapped on the chamber door. One of the maids opened it and two mailed soldier stepped in.
It was time to meet the king.
We moved along many corridors, ascended and descended many flights of stairs, passed through more halls and chambers than I could make note of and finally came to two great wooden doors guarded by sentries with spears.
Raucous noise came from behind the huge doors, wild music and laughter and loud indistinct boasts bellowed from drunken throats.
The doors opened and I was escorted into King Magon’s feasting hall.
It was long and narrow with rough tables and benches set on either side of a broad aisle. Chaos reigned at those tables where burly warriors sat, stabbing up joints of meat with daggers and short swords, swilling enormous jugs of ale - brew foaming down their beards as they drank - and brawling over small delicacies.
Servants of both sexes darted in and around the tables, carrying jugs of spirits and trenchers of meat and roasted vegetables, dodging blows and clumsy caresses. Entertainers pranced among the tables and along the aisle, juggling knives and pies, tumbling and somersaulting over the tables, balancing on wires stretched over the heads of the celebrants. The warriors jokingly jabbed at the wire walkers with bread sticks and even swords.
The sound of carousing was deafening and the music, which came from a small group of long-suffering musicians set up in one corner, was somehow less distinct with the doors open.
My escorts prodded me forward and I walked down the long aisle, gradually gaining the notice of the celebrants and was showered with leering comments about my physical characteristics that I’m sure some of the men thought were complimentary.
If it’d been another time and place I would’ve paused to teach them better manners. Instead I concentrated on putting one boot in front of the other, dodging tipsy celebrants and weary acrobats but at the same time not making the guards nervous about my intent.
I kept my self cold, casually unrevealing. I kept my magical senses tight about me, giving nothing away. Above the din of the brawling men I could feel the distinctive buzz of a sorcerous presence.
The further I walked along that aisle the stronger that feeling became.
Near the end of the feast hall the crowd cleared and I saw the king.
Even sprawled in the big throne-like chair set before his dining table, the king was as big as I remembered from my first distant view. He was dressed in a loose white shirt, stained red with spilled wine, and he had a royal robe pulled carelessly over his shoulders.
The heavy, gem-encrusted crown had a dangerous tilt to it. And his boots poked out from under the table, one big foot propped on top of the other. His high-backed chair carried the carved head of an ice bear.
There was a small crowd gathered about the king, who was bellowing so loudly that I could hear him above the din. As he spoke he thumped the table with a meaty fist to underscore some deeply-held royal opinion.
Then I saw a small delicate man lean toward the king and whisper in his ear. The king nodded and as he looked to see what the small man was pointing out he wiped greasy fingers in his beard.
Magon’s eyes found me as I reached the stairs leading up to the platform where his dining table was set. One of the guards tugged my sleeve and I stopped.
The king bellowed for quiet but you couldn’t hear the words plainly much beyond me. He flushed with impatience, hauled himself to his feet and pounded the table with a wine jug.
“Silence!” he roared.
The jug shattered, wine flooding out everywhere. But he got the silence he’d commanded.
All turned to look at the king.
“Boys,” he said, his voice rough with drink and manly cheer, “We’ve got a special guest tonight. Down here to see us all the way from the north country.”
He gestured at me and everybody craned to get a better look. I searched for the source of the magical buzz as he talked. It wasn’t him. The king was no magician. It wasn’t his aide - the small delicate man. And it wasn’t any of the people around him.
As I searched, the king was saying, “She’s from a real rich family too, boys. From what I hear, it’s the most important family in all the north. Brother’s a big merchant prince or something. Explorer too. At least that’s what they tell me.”
He smiled at me.
“Do I have it right so far?” he asked.
I bowed slightly. “As right as you can be, Your Highness,” I said.
“You’re also a witch, I’m told,” he said - but loudly, so all could hear.
“Actually, I’m an Evocator, Your Highness,” I said. “Which in my city is an official post.”
“No matter how you cut it,” he said, “it’s still the same thing.”
I smiled, accepting his kingly correction. “Yes, Your Highness.”
The king nodded, absently thrusting out a hand for a wine mug. There were none within reach, but a servant instantly scooped up a full goblet and thrust it into the king’s fist. Magon, without acknowledging that the goblet hadn’t been there a moment before, clasped it and drank the wine down. He dangled the goblet, then let it fall. The same servant snatched it out of the air so the crash wouldn’t disturb his majesty’s serenity.
Magon belched and wiped his beard. Then he leaned forward slightly, looking me over for some reaction. I made none. Although I did note that much of what I was seeing might be a pose.
Then he asked. “What brings you to Our kingdom?” he asked. He waved a hand, indicating his warriors. “We’re honored, of course. Such an important person traveling so far. Isn’t that so, boys?”
His men shouted good-humored jeers and mock compliments.
The king looked at me, his beard split by a sardonic grin.
“You see how honored we are?”
This brought another thunderclap of jeers and laughter. I let it wash over me, keeping a calm smile fixed on my face as if all were normal.
When they were done, I said, “I hope you won’t take offense, Your Highness, but until this voyage I’d never heard your exalted name.”
The king frowned, his heavy brows dipping over his forehead like two long boats nearly colliding in heavy seas.
“Never heard of King Magon?” he thundered.
“No, Your Highness,” I replied. “As you said, I come from far off.”
“And I suppose you’ve never heard of the Ice Bear King?”
I glanced up at the carved bear head on his throne, then shrugged.
“Not until recently, Your Highness,” I said. “I was told he was a legendary monarch in these regions. Hundreds of years ago.”
Rather than getting angry, Magon smiled at my answer.
“You see how it is, boys?” he said to his men. “You see how those rich stuff-robes on the outside lie about us? Legend, huh? Hundreds of years gone, huh?”
His warriors shouted drunken insults at the unnamed “stuff-robes.”
Magon turned back to me. “King Magon,” he said, “and the Ice Bear King are one and the same.” He thumped his chest. “You’re looking at him.”
I dipped my head in a slight bow. “I’m honored to be sure, Your Highness,” I said. “Thank you for enlightening me.”
“But you’re not amazed?” the king asked.
“Amazed, Your Highness?” I said. “Why should I be amazed?”
Magon frowned. “Why, to see a living legend in the flesh?”
I shrugged. The king’s frown deepened. Shrugs were the property of the monarch in this court.
“Sorry if I somehow gave offense, Your Highness,” I said, not sounding very sorry at all. “If I expressed amazement, it would be a lie whose only purpose would be to curry favor from the throne. After all, I only just learned you existed. Just as you only recently heard of me. So we come to this meeting as equals in ignorance.”
The king’s humor was restored. He wagged a finger at me. “Not that equal,” he said. “I know quite a bit about you, Lady Antero.”<
br />
“I’m relieved to hear that, Your Highness,” I said. “For if you know about me, you know the innocence of my purpose.”
King Magon barked laughter. “Innocent?” he bellowed. “You hear that, boys? Did you hear what the witch said?”
His men rumbled appreciatively.
Then the king’s mask of humor vanished. “Do you deny that you traveled down here to exploit my kingdom?” he thundered. “That your city - this, this, Orissa place - is in league with my enemies? And your allies?”
“I have no allies, Your Majesty,” I said. “Nor does my brother. We’re merchants, not officials of state. And our purpose is to trade, not conspire.”
“If trade was your wish,” the king said, “then why didn’t you come to see me? To ask permission, pay tariffs and duties and whatever.”
“How could I, Your Highness?” I said. “I’d never heard of you, remember? And now that you’ve raised the subject of duties and permissions, why the whole thing has just become simpler. We can open up talks now. Work out some kind of agreement I can take home to get my brother to approve.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” the king said.
“How so, Your Highness?”
“There’s blood between us,” he said.
“A tragic error on both sides, Your Highness,” I said. “I’m sure we can reach some kind of compensation agreement to help the widows and orphans of my men. Along with a suitable apology from you that such a terrible - although unavoidable - accident occurred. After all, we wouldn’t want such a thing to sour future relations between us.
“So, if you’ll just return my men to me, Your Highness, we’ll put all behind us. Work up a little trade pact between you and the Anteros. And we’ll be on our way. We’ll need credit, of course. So we can buy a ship from you and return home. But mutual credit is the sort of thing usually set up in any trade agreement. And I’m sure that if you’ve learned anything about the Anteros it’s that their credit and word is sound.”
“Just like that -” the king snapped his fingers – “And all is forgiven and forgotten?”
“Why not, Your Highness?” I inquired. “It’s the way of civilized people.”
“Are you saying we’re not civilized?” the king rumbled.
I made my brows arch in surprise. “Me, Your Highness? I never said such a thing, sir.”
“But you implied,” he said, “that if I didn’t agree I’d be no better than a savage.”
He looked at his men. “Isn’t that what she said, boys?”
His warrior shouted agreement.
“You see?” he said to me. “There are no savages here.”
“Good,” I said, deliberately misinterpreting and twisting the scene. “Now that we’ve settled that matter, Your Highness, I’d be pleased if you’d reunite me with my companions immediately. So they, too, can rejoice in the news that they are in the gentle hands of such a wise and civilized king.”
The king flushed heavily, his features purpling above his ragged white beard. As I looked more closely at him I thought his face seemed younger than the whiteness of his hair implied. His skin was coarse, roughened by the elements and heavy drink. But his brow was relatively unlined, the scratches at the corners of his eyes faint.
Then he said, “We, er, have other matters to discuss first. Then we’ll talk about your men.”
I acted surprised. “I’d be a poor commander, Your Highness, if I didn’t put my men above all other things.”
I glanced around at his warriors, sweeping their faces with an amused look.
“I can see from the loyalty and devotion of your own men, Your Highness, that you agree with such matters of soldierly honor.”
The king sputtered, but then covered his angry confusion by draining another cup of wine.
“And after I see to my men, Your Highness,” I said, “I’d like to presume to raise another concern - a concern, I think, that is a danger to both of us.”
“Danger?” he said. “How am I endangered?”
“There’s a gang of bandits in your kingdom, Your Highness,” I said.
He reacted massively. “Bandits? What bandits?”
“Why the ones who attacked my trading posts,” I said. “They’re a murderous group. Monsters of the worst sort. Our people were killed in their sleep.”
The room was hushed. The king glared at me, furious. But for some reason he was intent on keeping up the pretense.
“I’ve just come here,” he said. “I don’t know anything about such things. My capital is on the sea and many leagues away. You’re lucky I was touring my kingdom. Otherwise I wouldn’t have been here to stop my people from killing you. We don’t trust strangers much, I’m sorry to say. You were all armed, and frankly, lurking about. Seems pretty suspicious when you think about it.”
“Damned suspicious. Don’t you think, boys?”
His men muttered darkly. Magon turned back to me. A stern kingly frown furrowing his brow.
“Why didn’t you just come up to us and state your business?” he asked.
I raised a hand, pleading ignorance. “We were lost in the fog, Your Highness,” I said. “I don’t even know where I am now. What city is this? What is your kingdom called?”
“The city is Koronos,” Magon said. “My people mine rare metals here. The kingdom is Lofquistina. Which means Land Of The Bears in our ancient tongue.”
“Thank you for enlightening me, Your Highness,” I said. “When I return home I’ll praise your name and your kingdom to my people.
“Now, here is how I come to be in your realm. My family had established two trading posts near the sea some weeks march from here. We dealt with only the local people, trading for furs and things.
“If we were in your territory, I apologize. The people there are wild folk and perhaps didn’t think to tell me who their king was. But we were new to the area and I’m sure we’d have learned of this oversight soon and came to you with proper gifts and ceremony to beg your largesse.”
“You say these two outposts were attacked?” the king asked. He acted shocked. I kept wondering why he continued the lie.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I said. “And they were clearly cowardly assaults whose purpose was plainly to rob my people.”
I spit.
“Murderous pirates,” I said. “An honest opponent who resented our presence would merely have demanded we leave. If we’d have been so foolish as to refuse there’d have been a fight. But it would have been an honest dispute. And there’d have been no shame in the action. Although we’d all mourn those who fell.”
“And then what?” the king said, abrupt. “What happened after you visited your trading posts and found them destroyed.”
“I only went to one post, Your Highness,” I said. “I’m only guessing the same thing happened to the others. I’ve seen some evidence of that. But I can’t know for sure.”
“Go on,” the king said.
“We were caught in that great storm that surely bedeviled Your Majesty as well,” I said.
The king nodded. “Yes. I know which storm you mean.”
“One of our men,” I said, “was taken captive. An Evocator, like myself. He was put on a caravan. When the storm was over we followed the caravan trail. On the way we found the body of our Evocator from the other post. He’d been killed. Tortured first, I might add. Must be the same group of bandits, Your Highness. For who else would torture and kill a helpless man?”
The king glowered but said nothing.
“From there, Your Highness,” I said, “we continued following the trail. Hoping to rescue our comrade. We were engaged in that pursuit when we became lost in the fog and stumbled upon your people. And unfortunately alarmed them.
“Perhaps you could help me learn the whereabouts of our friend, Your Highness,” I said. “From the signs I saw before we became lost, he’s somewhere in this region. His name is Searbe. Lord Searbe.”
The king leaned to the side and whis
pered in the ear of his tall aide. The aide whispered something back. The king nodded while he spoke, looking at me the whole time.
It was then I that I discovered where the magical buzz was emanating from. Just beyond the king - at the edge of the curtained platform his table rested on - was a graceful musical instrument sitting upon an ivory stand. It was a wondrous lyre, beautifully curved and with delicate strings that glistened in the torchlight.
The king finally spoke and I had to drag my eyes away from the lyre.
