Courtly Masquerade

by Terry Spear

  “There,” I said, pointing my invisible hand. I pulled off the ring and pointed again. “There’s a village.”

  I looked over at Conlan’s rounded blue eyes and his gaping mouth. “I’ve never seen it before, and we’ve traveled this way several times.”

  Smoke curled from several of the small dwelling’s stone chimneys while candlelight and hearth fires caused a soft yellow glow to brighten the windows. An inn sat amongst the smaller buildings and a bigger square stone building sat squat in the center. A town hall maybe?

  Snow covered everything, washing the village in a white sugar coating. But the buildings looked warm inside. Fir trees surrounded the village like a gigantic wreath of greenery, again dripping with white icing.

  “Magic,” Moravia said under her breath.

  I began to slide off the horse, not on purpose, but I couldn’t sit upright any longer.

  Conlan jumped from his horse, then pulled me down from mine. “I don’t see that we have much of a choice. The lady has to have shelter and hot food, now.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Before Conlan could carry me two paces, a thin-faced man bolted out of the nearest house. A warm smile brightened his sallow complexion. His blue robes decorated in gold trim instantly brought to mind the apothecary shop owner.

  “The apothecary shop owner,” Conlan said under his breath, instantly confirming my suspicions.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” the man said, with outstretched arms. “I am Benjorian and you have arrived at Valdune.” He made a sweeping elegant motion with his arm at the village behind him.

  “But I have never seen this town here before,” Conlan said as he followed Benjorian, while holding me close to his chest. Conlan smelled of some heavenly spice and his body warmed mine.

  I closed my eyes, wishing somehow he was my duke and was taking me home to Cambria. But I knew as soon as he was mad at me again, which would undoubtedly occur sooner or later, I would feel otherwise about wishing he was my duke.

  The man’s smile broadened. “Have your men take the horses to the livery. They can stay at the inn. If you don’t mind my offering my humble abode, I would be most honored if the royal mage stay with me.”

  He knew who I was? That was a stupid question. Of course he knew. I wore the gowns of a royal lady. And if I was buying magical maps...

  That’s why he asked if I purchased them for someone else or for myself! He had to learn if I were a royal mage. Or more importantly, the royal mage.

  “We would feel honored,” Conlan said. “But I would ask that my sister and I and two of my lords attend her.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, my lord.”

  My mind flitted from thought to thought as if I were a rabbit scrambling away from the threat of a wildfire. Whose side were these people on? And were they all mages? Were they evil or good? Were they friends of the Dark One, and if so, how often did he visit here?

  Was there a shortage of females here, if it was some kind of a strange mage village, because female mages were so rare? Or did they marry non-mage types? My knowledge of mages, for being one myself, was extremely limited.

  I looked around, but didn’t see anyone except for Benjorian, Moravia, Basil and Larson, who stuck close to us.

  Then I realized, belatedly, Larson and Basil were lords, too. Of course. A prince would have lords as his companions, just as I normally had a baroness as mine, or the princess had a duchess—me—as hers. Were Basil and Larson dukes? Counts? Marquis? Barons? What?

  In royal societies, it’s always good to know whom you’re addressing, but Moravia and Conlan had kept names informal to prevent anyone knowing who they were. However now, I wanted to know.

  “Lords,” I mumbled, though I fully intended to speak clearly. I was shocked at my feeble attempt.

  Conlan did what no man should ever do, or at least in my vast inexperience, should never do, he kissed my cheek.

  He should have never have done it because he couldn’t have meant anything by it. If a man is to kiss a woman, there should be a good reason. But he had no good reason, not unless he cared about me a great deal.

  And he didn’t.

  So I frowned at him.

  And he chuckled back.

  Benjorian opened the door to his abode, and Conlan took me into the house, warmed by the fire. Several cushioned chairs sat around a square table near the fireplace.

  “I have three bedchambers. One for the two ladies. You, my lord, and your two men may stay in the one. And I, of course, in the third.”

  “I have to know,” I whispered, “does the Dark One come here?”

  Certainly it was a foolish question, but I had to ask anyway for my own peace of mind. I figured that if he was part of this community, none of the other mages would say. We would now be caught in the spider’s web. I still had to know.

  The man smiled at me. “My dear, surely you know the answer to your concern. His dark magic cannot penetrate this village.”

  “Why did you not stop me from leaving with Prince Renault when I was in the apothecary shop?”

  “Fate. The store is a neutral place for mages to gather. I had to determine if you were a mage, first off. But when the prince came to take you away, I couldn’t do anything about it. It was fate. I had planned on giving you a book on spells for one thing.”

  “I stole one from the Dark One.”

  Benjorian’s lips curved up. “May I have a look at it?”

  I motioned to Lynet’s coin purse.

  Benjorian pulled the book from the purse and his eyes widened. “One of the rarest books on spells. Only two known in existence.” He flipped through the book. “Well, if you can master even half of these, you should be well trained to fight the Dark One.”

  I felt so rotten I didn’t think I’d ever feel well enough to read any book on spells, let alone learn them. Then another thought occurred to me as I studied Benjorian and realized something was missing. “I can’t see any aura of magic around you,” I said, as Conlan laid me on a soft, goose-down bed.

  “Not in a magic village.”

  “I have never traveled this way before. Would I have seen the village before?”

  “You have only just come of age...seventeen...is this not so?”

  “Yes, a week prior.”

  He nodded. “You will now see the mage villages scattered wherever you may go.”

  “But the Dark One can’t?”

  Benjorian shook his head. “No, he cannot penetrate the magic shield we protect our villages from. It’s a way for mage folk to excommunicate those who seek the dark ways. We mix with the non-mages when we wish to, but otherwise keep our villages hidden from their sight.”

  “How can my companions see it?”

  “You wished them to. You are the royal mage. I’ll fetch Cantata’s stew that should help to speed your recovery.” He bowed low. “Princess.” Then he hurried out of the room.

  “Duchess,” I croaked.

  Moravia helped me off with my double set of cloaks, and pouches for food, water and money.

  “Do you think it is safe here?” I asked Conlan, who watched me with a curious kind of gaze.

  “I think it is safe enough. For now, you need to get into bed, eat, and sleep. When you are well, we will talk some more.”

  Moravia motioned for him to leave.

  He smiled. “If you do not need my further assistance...”

  As if he was assisting Moravia. All he was doing was watching her strip me.

  He bowed low, then left the room.

  “I hope,” I said as Moravia pulled the green gown over my head, “this is the last time I have to undress and dress today.”

  With the blue wool comforter tucked under my chin, and a bowl of bubbling hot stew warming my stomach, I closed my eyes.

  Only the strained conversation in the next room caught my attention, keeping from falling asleep.

  CHAPTER 13

  The conversation between Conlan and Benjorian was light, though I could
tell Conlan’s temper was rising a bit. He’d had a touch of a temper I had noticed a time or two when we had traveled together. And I could sense Benjorian’s words didn’t set well with the prince.

  Benjorian said, “We wish to keep her here a year or two, so she can learn the ways of magic.”

  “She will have all the mage books at her disposal at my castle in Crondor,” Conlan insisted.

  “She should have supervision; teachers who can educate her in the ways of being a great mage.”

  With soggy eyes, I saw Moravia sitting in a chair next to my bed, listening also to the conversation in the next room. Her back remained rigid and her eyes focused on the open door. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the men’s words.

  “I don’t believe we have a year or two before the Dark One makes his move, Benjorian.”

  No one spoke for sometime. I wondered if this meant the mage folk believed what Conlan said was true.

  “She can’t fight him as raw as her magic is, my lord. Well, rather, she could, but I’m afraid she would lose.”

  “If she doesn’t make the attempt before long, I fear we will all lose.”

  Again there was extended silence. I knew from diplomatic meetings between the king and leaders of other nations, prolonged silence was an important part of the negotiations. It gave each side time to think before they talked, instead of upsetting the discussions with rash dialogue.

  I also realized, though they seemed to be having a conversational tone, the two men were really fighting...over me.

  “It is my understanding,” Conlan said, and I could tell he was pacing from the way his voice was at one end of the room, then the other, “that mages do not like to get involved in non-mage folks’ business. Which leads me to believe you may wish to keep Arabella here for your own designs.”

  “Mine, dear sir?”

  “You and your people’s. Fewer mage females exist, for one.”

  Aha! Just what I was thinking. Good point, Conlan. Now, what have you to say to that, Benjorian?

  I wished I could see the mage’s expression.

  When Benjorian didn’t respond, Conlan went on the attack, in his aristocratically, diplomatic way. “And too, she is a royal. Would this elevate your community, to have a royal mage living with you?”

  “You wound me deeply, my lord.”

  Benjorian reacted too quickly with his mocking words of being offended. At once I could see that Conlan had the situation well thought out and knew what the mage and his cohorts intended. Keep me there, but not necessarily train me to fight the Dark One. I assumed as long as I stayed in their delightful village, the Dark One could be no threat to me or any of the mages. But what about for the people of the regions beyond the village? What about the non-mages?

  As sick as I was and as foggy as my brain was, I could still see Conlan was right. Once I felt more myself, we would have to reach his castle. Hopefully, while I conducted my studies, the Dark One would stay away. I still didn’t feel I could fight one so powerful. But I had to, with all my ability, however strong or weak it might be.

  But then a new worry wormed its way into my stomach. What if the mages stuck together to keep me here?

  I groaned and Moravia instantly took hold of my hand. “Arabella?”

  I opened my eyes and attempted a soggy smile. “I worry—”

  “Rest,” she said, and brushed a curl of hair off my cheek. “Sleep. Don’t worry. All will be well once you are feeling yourself again.”

  But I couldn’t sleep. Not knowing the safety of the whole world rested on my shoulders. What if the mages did something to Moravia and Conlan? To Basil and Larson? I sighed heavily.

  “Is she sleeping?” Conlan said, giving me a start.

  “She is worried,” Moravia said.

  His footsteps approached the bed. “Arabella, we will not leave you here. We’ll get you safely to Crondor.”

  “I fear the Dark One will be lying in wait. Maybe it would be better if we all stay here for a while, and I learned some magic.”

  “I believe he will strike soon. He will not want to give you time to build up your powers. But really, dear Arabella, you must sleep and get well.”

  I nodded, but my whole head hurt when I did.

  Benjorian peeked in. “Is she having trouble sleeping?”

  I wanted to groan.

  He waved his hand and held a silver goblet. “Here, my lady. This will help you to sleep.”

  I didn’t want to drink anything that made me sleep. I wanted to keep my mind clear—well, as clear as I could—under the circumstances. What if while I slept, my companions were thrown outside of the mage village? What then?

  I looked at Conlan, hoping he’d object to the concoction. But he seemed to believe I’d know better than he whether I should drink it or not.

  Moravia was the one who decided it for me though. “Here, drink, sleep, and get well.”

  With reluctance, I drank the clear blue, wine-apple tasting mixture, and then I slept.

  But it wasn’t a normal sleep.

  * * *

  I stared at the Dark One as he sat in his black clothes, minus the cloak. He dined with Duke Yalovon and Duke Farthington at Ro Castle in the great hall. Like in most castle halls, the lords sat at the high table, overlooking the rest of the courtiers while they ate. Tapestries covered the stones to help keep the chill winds out. And white cloth covered the high table while the rest of the courtiers ate on bare wood.

  Servants scurried back and forth bringing platters of food, and then returned to the kitchen empty-handed for more platters of food.

  Duck and geese were served along with gravy stews, stewed fruit and pastries. Conversation continued in a dull throb as the Dark One consumed his wine. Every one of his fingers sported a gem-filled ring as he held his brass goblet.

  “Zars,” Duke Farthington said, “what did you mean by she is among us when you spoke of this earlier?”

  Duke Yalovon looked on with interest as he sat on the other side of the mage.

  The Dark One shook his head. A black leather tie held his long black hair into a knot at the back of his head so severely it made my own head hurt. “I cannot say.” His tone of voice teetered between intrigue and concern. “Had she been with us, I would have seen her mage’s aura. I did not. Yet, I sensed she watched me, as if she were the panther readying to strike at the fox.”

  He thought I was a panther and he the fox? I smiled to think he seemed to fear me. Though my blood heated to think he thought he was the fox and cleverer than me. But then again, he would be, being that a mage school trained him.

  “Perhaps these rumors that espouse her abilities are much more powerful are not real, making her a legend when she is not so formidable at all,” Duke Yalovon said.

  “Possibly.” Zars, the Dark One, fingered a piece of duck with delicate precision. His long, tapered fingers stripped the bones so completely there wasn’t a scrap of meat left on them. For being such a tall, thin figure of a man, I was surprised to see he had such a healthy appetite.

  He carefully sliced a chunk of bread from a loaf, and coated it with butter. Every movement forced a shudder down my spine. I imagined that he would use that knife, or his magical abilities, to kill me with extraordinary precision.

  Suddenly, he seemed to look straight down at me. His black eyes appeared soulless, without a sparkle of compassion. I held my breath, waiting for him to swipe at me with his knife, or wriggle his fingers and cast some terrible spell on me.

  But instead, he shivered.

  Had I made him do that? Instantly empowered, I straightened my back and tilted my chin up. Well, I had my chin tilted up already because I stood below the raised table and had to look up at him. Still, for a split second, I’d seemed to scare him. I scolded myself inwardly. He’d probably felt a chill from the cold wind filtering through the loose mortar in the ten-foot thick stone walls.

  “What do you intend to do?” Duke Yalovon asked, licking the grease from the fowl off
his fingers.

  The mage jammed his knife into the center of his bread, then lifted it. Studying it he said, “Take care of it, like I take care of all of the difficulties we encounter.” He glanced at Yalovon, who quickly bobbed his head.

  “How?” Farthington asked. He didn’t seem so easily intimidated by the powerful mage.

  The Dark One’s lips turned up in an evil grin. I imagined he approved of the duke’s not cowering before him like Yalovon had done. For a second I was also impressed Farthington wasn’t a coward.

  Then I came to my senses.

  “The princess will never make it to Crondor. I will see to it she has an unfortunate...accident.”

  Princess? I thought he was talking about me! Did he mean to harm Princess Lynet? Or was he talking about Princess Moravia? Who in the world was he talking about?

  I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes at him. “I will stop you, mark my words, Zars, oh Dark One. You will find no peace when I come for you.” I spoke out loud, furious he would think to hurt a princess, furious he would make alliances with these fools to harm the populace. Couldn’t they see what...

  The Dark One dropped his knife still embedded in the bread and jumped from his seat. The chair fell backward with a clatter on the stone floor with his hasty action.

  The hall grew as silent as a vacant field on a still winter’s night.

  “What’s wrong?” Yalovon asking, rising slowly from his chair.

  Zars was breathing fast as his black eyes stared at me again. A shard of fear ripped through my heart and yet, I stood as steadfast as before.

  Farthington stood, then touched the Dark One’s shoulder. “Zars?”

  Zars jerked his arm away. “What the rumors say is true. She’s powerful. I will use the utmost care to rid us of her properly. Then all shall follow as we have planned.”

  He motioned to a boy who hurried forth with his cloak. Zars yanked it over his shoulders, cast one more look in my direction, then hurried out of the hall.

  A cold hand touched mine, and I screamed out in fright.

  CHAPTER 14