“We’re going to grandfather’s own quarters,” Mersby answered the unspoken question.
When the carriage stopped rolling ten minutes later, they opened the door and stepped out into a richly paneled wooden porte cochere. The decorations were not the oppressive black that dominated the palace portions he had visited previously, Marco noticed.
A pair of guards opened the door, and another pair of guards met them inside the door.
“No weapons are allowed beyond this point,” one of the men said, looking pointedly at Marco’s sword.
Marco looked at Mersby inquiringly.
“I’m just his grandson; I’ve never been invited here,” the prince smiled nervously. “I’d do what they suggest,” he said.
Marco decided he could summon his sword if he needed it, so he removed the belt around his waist and set it in a corner.
“You’ll have it if you need it anyway, won’t you?” a voice asked, and Marco turned to see Itterati standing in a nearby doorway. “Go ahead and show them how futile their normal security is against the likes of someone of your caliber,” the sorcerer urged.
Marco paused, considered, then shrugged. He held his hand out, and his sword leapt up into his grasp, making the guards hurriedly draw their own weapons in unexpected panic.
Marco returned the sword to its corner.
“Thank you for coming,” Itterati said as Marco turned to face him again. “Prince Mersby, it’s an honor to have you join us as well.”
“Thank you, lord sorcerer,” Mersby said. “Was it you who summoned Marco here?”
“No, it was the king. I just happened to be here to escort you to see your grandfather and ruler,” the sorcerer answered. “Shall we proceed?”
“Am I in trouble?” Marco couldn’t help but ask the question.
“Perhaps in terms of your fashion sense,” Itterati laughed. “But not with the king, I think,” he answered. “On the contrary,” he said softly, as he opened a door.
They entered an elegant room, one furnished more richly than any space Marco had ever seen before. There was burnished gold leaf on the ceiling, elaborate murals on the walls, and rich and elegant furniture pieces scattered about. In the center of the room stood a thin, elderly man, one who still stood with a straight back, who had a shiny bald head and a heavily wrinkled face.
“Mersby, I half expected to see you come along,” the man said.
“Grandfather, it’s a privilege to see you again,” Mersby said as he bowed low to the king.
“Yes, I’m sure it is,” King Moraca spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
Marco bowed deeply, as his mind began racing with disbelieve at what was happening. Deep within his consciousness, his original soul was screaming with anger and glee at the opportunity before him, the chance to kill the king who was the source and focus of the great evil moving about in the world. He was the man whose machinations had caused the Corsairs to raid the Lion City, and whose assassins had killed Lady Iasco.
“In a season that has brought a great deal of disappointing news, Itterati tells me that there is a blazing star of interest flying across the sky, and that we need to take time to study this phenomena,” the king spoke.
“Tell me young phenomena, who are you?” the king stared at Marco with eyes that drilled deeply into his soul.
Marco felt exposed. The deep layers, the one that recognized that he had been developed and prepared and assigned to come to Foulata, just to kill this very man, felt exposed, and yet they screamed for him to act, to trigger his powers and unleash an attack that would destroy the man and end the focus of evil that had been building up in Moraca for centuries.
And yet that same part of him said that he was exposed, that the king knew who he was, knew what he was there for, and was toying with him. He was standing in the presence of another sorcerer who had already demonstrated the ability to crush Marco’s powers with his own. Within a matter of seconds, he fearfully told himself, he was going to be trapped, tortured, tormented and destroyed before a gleeful king.
Above all those deeper emotions flashing through his mind stood the part of Marco that was besotted with Ellersbine, looking at the unexpected opportunity being presented to him. Despite Argen’s vaunted friendship with the king, here Marco stood, in the most intimate of settings, one of only four men standing in a room where the king was one of the four. It was his opportunity to impress, to establish himself, to carve out a niche in which he and Ellersbine could live happily ever after.
The emotions – opportunism, fear, and hope – all wildly conflicted within his soul, as he glanced over at Itterati, looking to see if the great sorcerer was preparing a blow to strike Marco down.
“He’s not the one questioning you boy, I am,” Moraca said in a tone that was partly impatient, partly amused. “He won’t damage you unless I tell him to, not yet anyway.
“So answer me, who are you?” the king repeated.
“I want to marry Ellersbine,” Marco answered, the first thing that came out of his mouth. He looked over at Mersby. “Sorry sir, that I haven’t asked you formally yet. I just got Argen out of the picture at Conor’s party, and I’ve been meaning to ask your permission.”
Moraca burst out in laughter. “Were we ever so young?” he asked Itterati humorously, “that the first thing we would tell a king when we met him was that we wanted to get married?”
The sorcerer smiled indulgently. “The link between the two lovers is strong, and unusual, and visible to one who has the power, my lord,” Itterati said significantly
“Visible?” Moraca asked, attuned to knowing the nuances of Itterati’s voice, to understand that a special emphasis existed.
“Yes, my lord. As a sorcerer, I can see that there is a steady, fixed life-force extended between the two of them. One of them is keeping the other alive, sharing their own vital energy in a way that supports the other. It’s extraordinary, something I’ve never seen before, but when I saw this one the other day I realized what it was. Won’t you tell us about this sharing, young phenomenon?” the sorcerer asked Marco.
He wasn’t dead yet, that was the first thing Marco thought. The king and his sorcerer hadn’t obliterated him yet.
“She was kidnapped when we were marching home,” Marco began hesitantly. “Argen had put me in solitary confinement,” he glanced at the king, “so I wasn’t with her to protect her when the camp was attacked.
“When I found out, I went after her. The kidnappers had treated her brutally, and she was dying. I didn’t know exactly what to do, so I followed my instincts, and used my gifts, and now she’s alive,” he said.
“Just a wild, untamed talent? A gut reaction?” Itterati asked.
Marco nodded, and the sorcerer looked at the king significantly.
“You can keep another person alive?” the king asked with interest as they all continued to stand, slowly moving closer to the table where the king stood with his hands on the back of a chair.
“I can keep her alive,” Marco emphasized. “For as long as I live, she can live.”
“I didn’t realize,” Mersby said, astonished by the story.
“And what about this?” the king lifted his hand negligently with a small signal. A door that Marco hadn’t even recognized was present in the intricate design of the room’s walls opened, and a woman stepped into the room.
She wore a simple white robe, one made of a translucent fabric that gave strong hints of the curves of her young body as she stepped forward. Yet none of the men in the room paid great attention to her body, as they all stood and stared, transfixed by the transcendent beauty that glowed in her face.
“Marco!” she spoke with joyful delight as she saw him. She flicked her eyes immediately over at the king as soon as the word blurted from her mouth.
“Go on child,” the king said affectionately, and Giselle ran over to Marco throwing herself into a tight hug that squeezed the air out of his lungs.
“I can’t believe what you did fo
r me!” she whispered in his ear. “Oh Marco, when I woke up yesterday and realized you had put me to sleep, I was so mad at you! I picked up a picture frame and threw it against the wall. And then I realized I was seeing the world through two eyes, and I screamed.
“Madame Lafarge and Rose came running into the room. ‘Where’s Giselle?’ they asked me.
“‘I am Giselle,’ I said, and we argued until they took me to Rose’s room, and I looked in a mirror (I don’t have any in my room, you know), and I screamed again,” she told Marco.
“Madame Lafarge realized who I was, and she said, ‘That boy truly did it.’ Then she wrote a note to Gaddis, and I guess he sent a note to someone else, because the sorcerer Itterati,” she motioned to the man in the room, as she disentangled herself from the breathless Marco, “came to see me.
“And he took me directly to see the king again,” she gave a bow of her head to her sovereign, “right in the middle of his dinner. They both examined me – I felt like I was a horse being sold at auction!” she laughed giddily. “Then I was sent back to my room, and I was told I’d see the king again this morning.
“I thought they meant in a different way,” she paused, “and now here am I, and I want to thank you so much. You’ve restored me, but Marco, you’ve made me even prettier than I was before! The girls all looked at me for hours last night! There’s not a scar or a blemish and everything is just,” she paused as she tried to wrack her brain for a word, “perfect,” she concluded.
“You did all of that?” Mersby asked Marco, so astonished by the story that he didn’t think to seek permission before he blurted out the question in the presence of the king.
Marco smiled at the girl, nodded at Mersby, then looked at Itterati.
“I hope the girl’s in no trouble. She didn’t even know what I was doing to her. She was asleep; I had to put her to sleep because the things I did took some time and effort and patience, not to mention cooperation. Please don’t do anything to her,” he finished, and he looked from the sorcerer to the king.
“There is no talk of punishment for young Giselle,” the king said. “That will be all, youngster,” he dismissed the girl.
“Thank you Marco,” she kissed his cheek, then departed through the same disguised door she had entered through.
“Pretty girls are common, though I’ll grant you that one is uncommonly pretty,” Itterati said.
“You are the one I’m interested in,” the king said to Marco. “I’ve heard about your salvation for the sweet young princess, I’ve seen what you did for Giselle, and the stories about your campaign to heal every servant and nobleman in the palace have reached my ears.
“I have a particular interest, and you seem to be uniquely suited to pursue what I seek, young Marco,” the king said.
“I am offering you a chance to come to the palace to be on my personal staff, under Itterati’s supervision. I want to see how far you can take your talents in a certain direction, one that my lead sorcerer can explain to you and work on with you,” the king spoke.
“Will you accept my offer?” his tone of voice was mild, but Marco saw the deep interest that the king’s face revealed. Marco was walking on the cusp of a dangerous decision he knew, and he knew what answer he had to give, but couldn’t hide from an intuitive feeling that it would be stepping into a trap to accept the offer.
“I am currently staying with Prince Mersby,” Marco swallowed as he spoke. “Do I have your permission to leave your home, sir?” he asked his host.
“Of course, absolutely, there’s no doubt,” Mersby recognized no alternative answer.
“Would I be able to see Ellersbine?” Marco asked next.
“Without question. Constantly; every day virtually,” the king answered mildly still, despite his surprise at the lack of an immediate acquiescence.
“Will I be allowed to marry her? We won’t be interfered with by Argen or his allies?” Marco was growing more and more desperate. He was going to say ‘yes’ he knew, but he wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.
“Marco, is it possible that you do not want to accept the king’s extraordinary offer?” Itterati asked.
“No,” Marco said. The game was over. “Of course I accept. I was just confused. I didn’t expect all of this when I was summoned here.”
“Of course you did,” Itterati answered. “This is what you’ve been seeking the whole time, isn’t it? All the things you’ve done – they’ve all been designed to catch the king’s eye. Now you’ve done it. Hundreds of men and women try it every day. You just happen to be wildly successful, more successful than anyone but you or I will ever dream of,” the sorcerer said.
“Now go back and pack up your belongings and come back here later today. We’ll get you settled in, and then tomorrow you and I will find some time to work together,” he told Marco. “Is that satisfactory, your highness?” he asked the king.
“It is a good beginning,” the king said. “Good to see you again, Mersby,” he told his grandson. “I expect great things from you,” he told Marco. He gave a nod to Itterati, and then he was gone, exiting through another door that Marco hadn’t realized blended into the room’s decorations so well.
“I’ll see you to your carriage,” Itterati said. “We’ll have a suite of rooms for you in the palace by the time you return. “Shall I arrange a location close to the harem? I’m sure the king will make allowances for any appetites you have,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to be close to the harem,” Marco answered, the enormity of his new direction sinking in. “I just want someplace that will be easy for Ellersbine to be able to visit,” he added.
Itterati watched as they climbed into their carriage.
“We’ll see you tonight,” he said, perhaps in a friendly manner, perhaps as a warning, and then the carriage pulled away.
Chapter 35
Neither Marco nor Mersby spoke until the carriage left the palace grounds.
“Marco, if I weren’t who I am, and you weren’t who you are, I would tell you to grab a horse and ride out of town as fast and far as you can,” Mersby said softly.
“If I thought there was any way I could take Ellersbine and run away, I would,” Marco replied.
“You are going to be the center of a lot of attention, a lot of jealousy, and the source of a lot of fear Marco,” Mersby told him. “I have seen that you’ve got a good heart and a steady head, but things are going to happen to you that you never imagined.”
“But I can come out of this a winner, can’t I?” Marco asked plaintively.
“If anyone can, I believe it’s you,” Mersby said reassuringly.
“May I have your permission to seek Ellersbine’s hand in marriage?” Marco asked.
“What I say is just a formality now, and a part of me says that if you really love her you’ll stay away from her now. But I know that doesn’t make sense yet to you or her. By all means, you may ask her,” the prince said, and then they each fell silent for the rest of the ride.
Aunt Grace cried and hugged Marco tightly when she greeted the carriage as it pulled up to the house, once Mersby broke the news to her. Marco went up to his room to collect his small number of possessions, but first went to the window, knelt, and began to pray. He prayed earnestly, long and hard, more than he had at any time since arriving in Foulata. He prayed for protection and guidance and for Ellersbine’s safety.
He was still praying when a servant knocked on the door to ask if everything was alright. Marco stood up and went downstairs with the servant. There was a long, tearful good bye with lots of advice and promises, then Marco was given one of the prince’s saddle horses, and he left the palace that had been his home for several weeks to start his journey to the palace.
He took the long way there. Itterati had said he expected Marco back in the evening, so Marco went to Ellersbine’s home to see her, to break the news, and to formally ask for her hand in marriage.
“I have to talk to you,”
Marco said urgently, taking her away from a conversation with Suseen, when he arrived at her home.
“What is it Marco? Is there something happening?” Ellersbine asked.
As soon as they were alone, Marco knelt in front of Ellersbine, and he saw her face grow pale.
“Ellersbine, I was summoned to the palace this morning,” he said.
“I met the king. I talked to him in person, him and his sorcerer. They asked me to move into the palace and be one of the king’s own sorcerers,” he announced. Ellersbine’s eyes instantly filled with moisture.
“I have to move to the palace right now, and I’m scared, really scared about what will happen. But before I go, I want to ask you if you would be willing to be wife, to marry me when I finish this up and get it resolved and have the freedom to live the rest of my life with you.
“Your uncle,” Marco said, as Ellersbine dropped down onto her own knees, so that the two of them were facing each other. “I asked your uncle for permission to seek your hand, and he said I could, but he, he worries about what will happen when I’m in the palace.”
“I will, I will, Marco!” Ellersbine cried. “I will marry you! I will wait for you! You are too good to be true; I know that you’ll change the palace – it won’t change you!”
The pair of them embraced, and kissed passionately. “I asked the king if I would be allowed to see you every day, and he promised that I would,” he told her fiercely. “We’ll see each other every day, and maybe we can even get married in the palace.”
“Marco, anytime, anywhere, I’ll marry you!” Ellersbine said, then sniffed, then laughed.
They stood up together, then returned to see Suseen, and announced their engagement, making her cry with joy as well, until she found out that Marco was on his way to move into the king’s palace.
“Be careful Marco, please be careful,” she pleaded as she hugged him, then went running off to find her sister and tell her the news.
Ellersbine walked Marco to the door. “I’ll wait to hear from you,” she told him, as they hugged again, and kissed one last time.
The Southern Trail (Book 4) Page 35
