“So, the seasons have moved along, and we need to get you up to Estone so that you can sail out before the shipping lanes freeze closed for the winter. Here are your orders from Silvan, with details on how you should plan to send messages back to our side once you’re over in Hydrotaz,” Cosima passed a folded sheet of paper to Kestrel.
“You’re good to go as of now,” Cosima rose. “And I don’t know if we’re likely to see you back here in Firheng again for a long time. I know you’ll have to be back in the Eastern Forest within a year and a half, as your ears start to grow back. I hope we’ll get a chance to see you pass through here. I’m sure you’ll have some interesting stories to tell,” he said as he walked towards the door and opened it.
“And you’ve got some friends here who will want to see you again,” he added. The commander held out his hand and shook Kestrel’s. “Go with the peace and protection of the gods.”
“Thank you, commander,” Kestrel replied as he felt the strong grip. “I look forward to seeing you again with some entertaining stories to tell.”
He turned to see Belinda, who was standing and facing him as he heard the door to Cosima’s office close behind him. “Oh Kestrel, come back to us safe and sound!” she said as she hugged him. “I want you to have dinner with Ranor and me.”
“I look forward to that,” Kestrel said gently. They pulled away from one another, and stared into each other’s eyes, then Kestrel stepped back. “Good bye, Belinda,” he said softly, as he left the room. His pack was in his room, ready to go; he soon picked it up, and put all his weaponry on, then left Firheng on his way back to Estone.
Chapter 30 – Jonson’s Needs
Kestrel stood on the road, looking at the walls of Estone not far away, as they glowed red in the sunset’s light. He’d taken three days to travel this far from Firheng, three days that he had spent scrubbing his mind of his feelings that he was once again an elf pretending to be a human. For the next several months, he knew he had to convince himself that he was a human – he needed to feel it in his heart and be able to convince everyone around him that there was nothing elvish about him. The words of the blacksmith in Green Water still replayed in his memory – “Are you a human or an elf?” Even when he looked and acted most human, the smith had found something about him that raised the seemingly preposterous question.
Those circumstances had been unusual though, and he didn’t expect to see another elf for many weeks or months to come. And starting with his passage through the walls of Estone, he would have to put his Elven identity as deeply under cover as possible. He took a deep breath, then resumed his journey towards Estone, and half an hour later he passed through the gate.
He needed to find a place to spend the night. He had spent the whole journey north thinking about that question more than any other. He wanted to go see Merilla first – first and foremost – to see what reception he would receive, and what feelings might be ready to flare up between them, if the gods were to capriciously decide their romantic timing was allowable now. But he knew that he was only going to be in Estone for one or two or three nights, until he had arrangements to sail away, and he would be treating Merilla in a manner that was callous if he simply visited her briefly to satisfy his own desires, then left.
There was a square near the docks, and he knew there were decent inns nearby. He would go there and book a room. He would book a room and think about Merilla, he knew, as he walked through the darkening streets of Estone, as the autumnal sun set, casting its last weak rays into the city. Then, after he had a room, he would eat dinner, and he would continue to think about Merilla. And after that, no matter what he did, whether he went to an armory and practiced, or sat in a tavern and drank, or walked around the streets near Daley’s shop, he would think about Merilla.
Minutes later he reached the square, and selected an inn, The Mermaid, where he got the last room available. He left his pack and his bow and his sword in his room, and went downstairs with his staff. He stood in the doorway and looked into the dining room, where a few men in red sat, then walked outside into the darkness, and began to walk towards the section of town where Daley’s millinery shop and Hammon’s leathermongery were located around the corner from one another.
When he arrived, both shops were dark, but the living quarters above each showed windows that glowed with light, and he stood on a far corner where he could stare at both sets of lights and both doorways and felt the turmoil in his heart as the minutes passed and he made no move to approach either home. He felt his feet grow cold as he stood motionless on the corner, then the cold began to seep through his cloak, and at last he left the corner and returned to his inn, where he sat alone at a table in the tavern, and drank an ale with his dinner, before he went to bed alone for the evening.
He laid in his bed with a dim lantern providing light, as he read the intricate directions from Silvan, information on how he was to pass his findings along to the elven forces. There were a number of locations along the border with Hydrotaz where he could secretly stash a message, and know that it would eventually be found and picked up by an elf courier.
His messages would have to be written in obscure codes, full of symbols and hidden meanings that he would need many days to memorize. Flowers, shapes, colors – they all had to be written into a message that seemed to describe something else. There were sequences of words that would trigger meanings – “a square of yellow roses” meant that life-threatening conditions were imminent, for example. “A triangle of three red pansies” meant that he expected he was going to die. There were few happy or positive meanings he could convey, he noted grimly as he turned down the wick to put out his bedroom light. Apparently, he wasn’t expected to uncover many happy outcomes, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.
The next morning Kestrel went to see Castona at his shop, where he was greeted with a combination of warmth and awe. “It’s the return of our champion!” one of Castona’s assistants shouted.
Castona poked his head out from a back room to see the reason for the shout, then grinned. “It’s not always good to have to need a champion, but if you’re going to have one, this is the best to have!” he said.
“Kestrel, what brings you through our door, and have you been to the palace to see the Doge?” the merchant asked.
“I just arrived in the city last night,” Kestrel replied. “I’d like to get a berth on a ship to take me to the Inland Seas kingdoms.
“Why do I need to see the Doge?” he asked.
“The Doge wants the prestige of having you seen in public with him, of course,” Castona explained. “Let me do some checking on the tides and departures this morning, while you go to the palace, flash your chest – funny, I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever say that to a man!” he laughed at his own joke, “and then go see the Doge. He’ll probably want to host a dinner or reception with you and invite all the noblemen he can.
“You should do this, Kestrel. The Doge has been very upset about your disappearance, and this will help quite a bit, especially with the restlessness that has been growing among the people,” Castona urged. “It won’t delay your departure by more than a day or so. And there have been some unusual occurrences around the city lately; your appearance will give people – including the Doge – some comfort.”
“Alright,” Kestrel agreed, willing to accept a reason to spend another night in Estone.
“Good!” Castona smiled. “And when you see the Doge, could you put in a good word for me? Let him know that I was the one who told you to go see him? I’d appreciate it.”
Kestrel laughed at the ulterior motive revealed. He clapped his trader acquaintance on the shoulder. “I’ll go to the palace right now, and demand to see the Doge. You go find a ship for me.” He stood up and left the shop, striding through the streets of the city on his way to the palace, dodging traffic and slipping down alleyways to avoid slow spots. Within several minutes he stood at the gates of the palace and approached a guard.
“I want to see the Doge. I am the People’s Champion,” Kestrel said. He saw the boredom on the faces of the guards, and responded by pulling his cape away, then lifting his shirt over his head.
“I want to see the Doge, and I understand he wants to see me,” Kestrel said, as the two guards looked at him closely, then whispered between themselves.
“Step inside the gate here, and we’ll have a guide sent to take you inside,” one of the guards said.
Kestrel entered the gate, then pulled his shirt back on and wrapped his cowl around him. Within minutes, a palace servant in a luxurious uniform arrived, and led Kestrel inside, to a luxurious sitting room. “Moresond will be here in a few minutes to meet with you,” the servant said.
Moresond was the herald of the palace, the man with the deep rich voice who had met Kestrel at the time he had been invested with his titles. It was a check on his authenticity, he realized, one that might not even require him to remove his shirt again to prove his worthiness to be taken before the Doge.
The door handle turned, and a man dressed in black entered the large ornate room where Kestrel sat alone.
“Well, it is our young divinely approved champion, I see,” Moresond spoke as he approached. “We’re delighted at your return. I’ll go immediately to see the Doge and arrange for an audience, and then the two of you can make plans. He’ll be relieved to know that you have returned to protect your people.
“Just as a matter of curiosity, may I see the divine marking on your chest? I recognize you and will vouch for who you are, no matter. This is simply to indulge my own wish to see what the touch of a goddess can do,” he explained.
“Of course,” Kestrel agreed. He again lifted his shirt, realizing that he was likely to repeat the performance again for the Doge and others, and thinking that he needed to wear an easier shirt to remove.
“It is remarkable,” Moresond said. “There’s nothing to let one know it isn’t completely natural.”
“It is natural, now,” Kestrel assured him.
“Of course,” the herald agreed as he straightened up. “I’ll go now, and be back very soon.” He left Kestrel alone in the room as he departed. Only a moment later there was another knock on the door and two maids entered.
“Oh! We didn’t know anyone was in here,” one feigned to be unaware of Kestrel’s presence in the room.
“It’s no problem,” Kestrel assured them as they began to wipe and dust random pieces of furniture around the room, constantly stealing glances at him. Within two minutes, a young servant boy also entered the room.
“I came to see if I could help you with anything,” the boy said, his body pointed towards the maids, but his eyes focused on Kestrel.
He followed one of the two maids around the room, until there were no more obvious excuses to remain any longer. All three of them approached Kestrel to curtsey and bow. “Is there anything further we can do to assist your grace?” one of the maids asked.
“No, nothing at all, but thank you for keeping me company,” Kestrel said politely, as another knock foretold the return of Moresond, who looked at the cleaning staff with raised eyebrows.
“The Doge will see you now,” the herald announced. “He’s just finishing an audience with the new ambassador from Uniontown.”
Kestrel nodded to the trio in the room, then left. In the hall he and Moresond were promptly followed by two ceremonial guards. “It’s a sign of the respect the Doge has for you,” Moresond assured him in a calm voice, and they proceeded through a maze of turns to reach a grand receiving hall, where the Doge received visitors before a large number of members of the court. There was a sinister feel in the room, one unlike anything Kestrel had ever felt before, and he felt an alarming tightness in his chest, but as he stopped momentarily in reaction to it, the feeling dissipated, and the crowd in the room seemed to breathe a similar sigh of collective relief.
A large entourage was leaving the room on the far side, wearing a great deal of deep red, as two members of the group limped in a peculiar manner that seemed oddly familiar to Kestrel. Within moments he gasped audibly, as he realized the limp was the same uncomfortable gait that Hinger and Termine had used before their feet began to heal.
“Were there slaves in that group?” Kestrel abruptly asked Moresond.
The herald looked at him oddly. “Slavery is technically not permitted in the nation of Estone, but occasionally we find a case here or there. The ambassador is new to this post; we’ve never had any embassy from Uniontown before at all, so he may not know our laws and customs yet.
“He’s just been officially recognized, though he’s been here for several days. He and his staff have managed to offend virtually everyone they come in contact with – such arrogant people,” he explained. “Though there are those weak-willed few who seem to crave a bully to make their decisions for them.”
“Here’s the Doge,” he switched topics as they arrived. “You’re not on the published schedule of course, so this will wake up the crowd, which is just what the Doge wants! Now wait right here until I call you forward,” Moresond was being quite talkative, Kestrel thought, compared to their last encounter. He wondered if the herald was nervous, or whether the palace official perhaps actually liked him.
“The Captain of the Fleet and Champion of the People, as designated by the Doge and confirmed by the divine Goddess Kai, Kestrel, seeks audience with the Doge,” Moresound called out loudly from the top step of the platform the Doge sat upon. There was a moment of stunned silence, and then an electric buzz in the air as every observer said something to their neighbor or even to themselves at the surprise arrival of the Champion.
The Doge waved Kestrel towards him, so Kestrel climbed the steps, and stopped just one step below the Doge on his dais. “I have just arrived in town last night, your honor, and wished to present myself to be received by you.”
“Thank you, friend Kestrel,” the Doge answered directly. “Do you have time at the moment for a private audience?”
“Certainly, your honor,” Kestrel replied.
“Good,” the Doge said in a low voice, as he rose from his seat immediately. “I need a happier visit after listening to that odious villain from Uniontown. The man seems to plan to become a force here in Estone; he’s announced plans for a grand party at his estate, and there seem to be a few weak-spined people who want to listen to his claims about new powers rising and a new order in the world,” he harrumphed as he led Kestrel and Moresond and a guard behind the throne and through a discreet door, down a hall, and into a quiet study, where the guard remained outside the door as the others took their seats inside.
“I’d like to see it, of course,” the Doge said immediately, a wish that Kestrel had anticipated. “Do you know, I’m having to arrange to allow pilgrimages into the palace these days so that the people can see the chapel where the goddess stood and touched you?” he added as Kestrel pulled his shirt up over his head and walked over beside the seated leader.
“The architect has elaborate plans for building a pilgrim’s way into the palace, just to the chapel and back out, which will be preposterously expensive, of course,” the Doge muttered lightly as he examined Kestrel’s artwork. “That’s quite a triple-headed title,” he commented softly. “Now turn around and let me see the back,” he commanded. Kestrel turned, and felt the Doge’s hand covering Kai’s handprint. “It’s a delicate feminine hand, isn’t it?” he asked. “Though it obviously can pack quite a powerful strike. You’ve been slapped by larger hands that left less pain, eh Moresond?” he chuckled.
“Yes indeed, though those slaps were long ago in my past,” the herald agreed with a smile.
“Thank you, have a seat and relax,” the Doge told Kestrel.
“There is so much I would like to know about you: who are you, where are you from, why did the goddess select you?” the Doge began.
“I won’t be here long,” Kestrel interrupted, “your grace.
“I have need to visit the kingd
oms of the Inner Seas. I hope to be riding one of the next ships to leave your harbor,” he explained. “Within the next day or two if possible.”
The Doge sat back in his chair and looked at Kestrel speculatively. “I’d like for the members of the court and the council to have a chance to assemble and see you. It will do us all good to collectively know our champion comes among us; we don’t have to mention that you’ll be leaving, especially with this Uniontown troublemaker among us now.
“Will you be gone long?” he asked.
“It’s likely to be a few months, I think,” Kestrel answered.
“But you’ll agree to attend a reception?” Moresond interjected.
“My trader friend, Castona, also suggested that such a thing would be a good idea. He felt it would be good for the city, and good for the Doge,” Kestrel answered, “so yes, if we can make arrangements in the next day or two, I will attend.”
“Your trader friend is shrewd,” the Doge commented. “I’m sure we can make arrangements to hold a soiree at the court tomorrow evening. We’ll announce that the champion is within the city walls and wants to confirm his commitment to our people’s good will. You and I can hold a receiving line.
“Would you like for me to arrange for one of the ladies of the court to serve as your escort?” the herald asked.
“Let me see if I can find one myself,” Kestrel replied quickly.
“Very well,” the Doge answered. “Let’s return to the court and make the announcement, then you’ll be free to go and I can return to the scheduled appointments.
“Oh, and one more thing, my champion; I don’t know how you will handle it, but expect everyone to want to see the goddess’s mark on your chest.”
They walked back to the throne room, where the crowd grew silent as the Doge and Kestrel stood before the throne, while Moresond stood in front of them, a step lower, and made the announcement of the reception to take place the following evening. The room immediately burst into a roar of commentary as Kestrel slipped back out the small door, and discreetly left the palace.
The Inner Seas Kingdoms: 01 - The Healing Spring Page 33
