Here, in the darkest segment of the prison, Esrahaddon’s robe grew brighter still, and he looked like a giant firefly. In time, they came to a solid stone wall, and without hesitation or pause, Esrahaddon walked through it. The rest quickly followed.
The bright sunlight of a lovely, clear autumn morning nearly blinded them the moment they passed through the barrier. Blue sky and the cool fresh air was a welcome change. Hadrian took a deep breath and reveled in the scent of grass and fallen leaves, a smell he had not even noticed prior to entering the prison. “That’s strange. It should be nighttime and raining, I would think. We couldn’t have been in there more than a few hours. Could we?”
“Funny things can happen when ye play with time.” Esrahaddon threw his head back and faced the sun. He stood and took long deep breaths of air, sighing contentedly with each exhale. “The question ye should be asking thyselves is what day ’tis? Today could be the same day you entered, or the one after. In theory, ’tis possible to be tens or hundreds of years in the future.” The wizard appeared amused at the shock on their faces. “Don’t worry too much. Most likely ye only skipped a few days or hours.”
“That’s rather unnerving,” Alric said, “losing time like that.”
“I have lost nine hundred years. Everyone I knew is dead, the Empire is gone, and who knows what else hath happened. If what thy sister tells me is correct, much hath changed in the world while I have been gone.”
“By the way,” Royce mentioned, “no one uses the words ’tis or hath anymore and certainly not thou or thy. You sound like a history book.”
The wizard nodded. “I noticed none of ye spoke properly. In my day, various classes had different forms of speech. Properly educated people used more sophistication than the lower classes as a mark of their rank. I assumed all of ye were merely of a lower station or, in the case of the king, poorly educated.”
Alric glared. “It is you who sound strange, not us.”
“I see. Then I wilt have to learn to speak as all of—you—do. Even though—it is—very difficult and sounds crude and guttural.”
Hadrian, Royce, and Myron began the task of saddling the horses, which remained standing where they had left them. Myron smiled, obviously happy to be with the animals once again. He petted them while eagerly asking how to tie a cinch strap.
“We don’t have an extra horse, and Hadrian is riding double already,” Alric explained. He glanced at Royce, who showed no indication of volunteering. “Esrahaddon will have to ride with me I suppose.”
“That won’t be necessary. I will be going my own way.”
“Oh no you’re not. You’re coming back to my castle with me. I have a great deal to speak with you about. You were the advisor to the Emperor and are obviously very gifted and knowledgeable. I have great need for such an advisor. You will be my Royal Counselor.”
“No. ’Twill…” he sighed and then continued. “It will come as a shock to—you—but I did not escape for the purpose of helping you with your little problems. I have more important matters to which I must attend, and I have been too long from them.”
The prince appeared taken aback. “What matters could you possibly have after nine hundred years? After all, it’s not as if you have to get home to tend to your livestock. If it is a matter of compensation, you will be well paid and live in as much luxury as I can afford. And if you are thinking of shopping around, only Ethelred of Warric is likely to offer as much and trust me, you don’t want to work for the likes of him. He’s a dogmatic Imperialist and a loyal church supporter.”
“I am not looking for compensation.”
“No? Look at you. You have nothing, no food, no place to sleep. I think you should consider your situation a bit more before refusing me. Besides, gratitude alone should compel you to help me.”
“Gratitude? Has the meaning of that word changed as well? In my day, it meant to show appreciation for a favor.”
“And it still does. I saved you. I released you from that place.”
Esrahaddon raised an eyebrow. “Didst thou help me escape as a favor to me? I think not. Thou freed me to save thyself. I owe thee nothing, and if I did, I repaid thee when I brought thou out.”
“But the whole reason I came here was to gain your assistance. I am inheriting a throne handed down by blood! Thieves abducted and dragged me across the kingdom in my first two days as king. I still don’t know who killed my father or how to find them. I am in great need of help. You must know hundreds of things the greatest minds of today have never known—”
“Thousands at least, but I am still not going with you. You have a kingdom to secure. My path lies elsewhere.”
Alric’s face grew red with frustration. “I insist you return with me and become my advisor. I can’t just let you wander off. Who knows what kind of trouble you could cause. You’re dangerous.”
“Yes indeed dear prince, so allow me to givest thee a bit of free council: doth not use the word insist in conjunction with me. Thine hath but only a small spill to contend with, do not tempt a deluge.”
Alric stiffened.
“How long before the Church starts hunting you?” Hadrian asked casually.
“What dost thou…” the wizard sighed. “What do you mean?”
“You locked things up nicely in the prison so no one will know you escaped. Of course, if we were to return and start bragging about how we broke you out, that might start inquiries.”
The wizard leveled his gaze at Hadrian. “Art thee attempting to blackmail me?”
“Why would I do that? As you already know, I have nothing to do with this, being just a scapegoat and all. Not to mention it would be pretty stupid of me to threaten a powerful wizard. The thing is though, the king here, he is not as bright as I am. He very well might get drunk and tell stories at the first tavern he arrives at, as nobles often do.” Esrahaddon glanced at Alric, whose red face now turned pale. “Fact is, we came all this way to find out who killed Alric’s father, and we really don’t know much more than we did before we set out.”
Esrahaddon chuckled softly. “Very well, I will give you some assistance. Tell me how did your father die exactly?”
“He was stabbed with a knife,” Alric explained.
“What kind of knife?”
“A common rondel military dagger.” Alric held his hands about a foot apart. “About this long. It had a flat blade and a round pommel. It was really nothing special.”
Esrahaddon nodded. “Where was he stabbed?”
“In his private chapel.”
“I meant where physically?”
“Oh, in the back, upper left side, I think.”
“Were there any windows or other doors in the chapel?”
“None.”
“Who found the body?”
“These two.” Alric pointed at Royce and Hadrian.
The wizard smiled and shook his head. “No, beside them, who announced the death of the king? Who raised the alarm?”
“That would be Captain Wylin, my master-at-arms. He was on the scene very quickly and apprehended them.”
Hadrian thought about the night King Amrath had been killed. “No, that’s not right. There was a dwarf there. He must have come around the corner of the hallway just as we left the room. He probably saw the king’s body lying on the floor of the chapel and shouted. Right after he yelled, the soldiers came, and surprisingly fast, I might add.”
“Did you actually see this dwarf approach from the corridor?” the wizard asked.
“No,” Hadrian replied, and Royce confirmed with a shake of his head.
“And when you entered the chapel, was the king’s body visible from the doorway?”
Hadrian and Royce shook their heads.
“That solves it then,” the wizard said, as if everything was perfectly clear. The party stared back at him in confusion. Esrahaddon sighed. “The dwarf killed Amrath.”
“That’s not possible,” Alric challenged. “My father was a big man, and the dagg
er thrust was downward. A dwarf couldn’t possibly have stabbed him in the upper back.”
“You said your father was in his chapel. As any good pious king, he was no doubt kneeling with head bowed. The dwarf killed him as he prayed. I suspect the dwarf was someone your father knew. Someone he would not be alarmed to see in the chapel.”
“But the door was locked when we entered,” Hadrian said. “And there was no one in the room besides the king.”
“No one you could see at least. The dwarf must have been hiding inside the room when you entered. Did the chapel have an altar with a cabinet?”
“Yes, it did.”
“They did a millennium ago as well. Religion changes very slowly. The cabinet was no doubt too small for a man to crouch in, but I’m sure it could easily accommodate a dwarf. After he killed the king, he locked the door and waited for you two to find the body.” Esrahaddon paused. “That cannot be right you—two—to?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “If you have done this to language, I fear to know the fate of all else.
“With the door locked, a night guard or a cleaning steward would not find the body prematurely. Only a skilled thief would be able to enter, which I assume at least one of you is.” He looked directly at Royce as he said the last part. “After you left, the dwarf crept out, opened the door, and sounded the alarm, trapping you before you could get away.”
“So, the dwarf is the agent of the Church?”
“No.” The wizard sighed with a look of frustration. “Unless things have changed drastically since I was last about, there is not a dwarf alive who would carry a common dagger. The traits of dwarves change even slower than religion. He was given the dagger by the one who hired him. Find that person and you will find the true killer.”
Stunned, everyone looked at the wizard.” That’s incredible,” Alric said.
“Actually, it is not difficult to determine. After so many years you learn a great many things.” The wizard inclined his head toward the cliff. “Getting out of there was hard. Speaking as you do is hard. Determining the murderer of King Amrath was…was…soft.”
“Soft?” Hadrian asked. “You mean easy.”
“How is easy the opposite of hard? This does not make sense.”
Hadrian shrugged. “And yet, it is.”
Esrahaddon looked frustrated. “See what I mean? Now, you have what you came here for, or at least as much assistance as I can lend in this matter. Therefore, I will be on my way. As I said, I have to attend to my own affairs. I assume my help was sufficient to prevent any loose tongues?”
“You have my hand on it,” Alric said reaching out.
The wizard looked down at Alric’s open palm and smiled. “Your word is enough.” He turned away and without so much as a parting gesture began walking down the slope.
“You’re going to walk? You know it’s a long way to anywhere from here,” Hadrian yelled after him.
“I am looking forward to the trip,” the wizard replied without glancing back. Following the ancient road, he rounded the corner and slipped out of sight.
The remaining party members mounted their horses. Myron seemed more comfortable with the animals now and climbed confidently into his seat behind Hadrian. He even neglected to hold on until they began down the ravine back in the direction from which they had come. Hadrian expected they would pass Esrahaddon on the way down, but they reached the bottom of the ravine without seeing him.
“Not your run-of-the-mill fellow, is he?” Hadrian asked. He was continuing to look around for any signs of the wizard.
“The way he was able to get out of that place, makes me wonder exactly what we did here today by letting him out,” Royce said.
“No wonder the Emperor was so successful.” Alric frowned and knotted the ends of his reins. “Although I can tell it didn’t come without aggravation. You know, I don’t extend my hand often, but when I do I expect it to be accepted. I found his reaction quite insulting.”
“I’m not sure he was being rude by not shaking your hand. I think it is just because he couldn’t,” Myron told them. “Shake your hand that is.”
“Why not?”
“In The Letters of Dioylion, they told a bit about Esrahaddon’s incarceration. The Church had both of his hands cut off in order to limit his ability to cast spells.”
“Oh,” Alric said.
“Why do I get the impression this Dioylion fellow didn’t die a natural death?” Hadrian asked.
“He’s probably one of those faces in the hallway.” Royce spurred his horse down the slope.
Chapter 6: Revelations by Moonlight
“I heard you were looking for me, Uncle?” Princess Arista swept into his office. She was followed by her bodyguard Hilfred, who dutifully waited by the door. Still dressing in clothing mourning her father’s death, she wore an elegant black gown with a silver bodice. Standing straight and tall with her head held high, she maintained her regal air.
The Archduke Percy Braga rose as she entered. “Yes, I have some questions for you.” He resumed his seat behind the desk. Her uncle was dressed in black as well. His doublet, cape, and cap were dark velvet, causing his gold chain of office to stand out more than usual. His eyes looked weary from lack of sleep, and a thickening growth of stubble shadowed his face.
“Do you now?” she said glaring at him. “Since when does the Lord Chancellor summon the acting queen to answer his questions?”
Percy raised his eyes to meet hers. “There is no proof your brother is dead, Arista. You are not queen yet.”
“No proof?” She walked over to Braga’s chart table where maps of the kingdom lay scattered everywhere. They were littered with flags marking where patrols, garrisons, and companies were deployed. She picked up the soiled robe she saw there, it bore the Essendon falcon crest. Poking her fingers through the holes cut in the back she threw it on his desk. “What do you call this?”
“A robe,” the archduke responded curtly.
“This is my brother’s, and these holes look as though a dagger or arrow would fit through them nicely. Those two men who murdered my father killed Alric as well. They dumped his body in the river. My brother is dead, Braga! The only reason I have not already ordered my coronation is that I’m observing the appropriate mourning period. That time will soon be over, so you should mind how you speak to me, Uncle, lest I forget we are family.”
“Until I have his body, Arista, I must consider your brother alive. As such, he is still the rightful ruler, and I will continue to do everything in my power to find him regardless of your interference. I owe that much to your father who entrusted me with this position.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my father is dead. You should pay more attention to the living, or you won’t be the Lord Chancellor of Melengar for long.”
Braga started to say something and then stopped to take a calming breath. “Will you answer my questions or not?”
“Go ahead and ask. I will decide after I hear them.” She casually walked back to the chart table and sat on it. She crossed her long legs at the ankles and absently studied her fingernails.
“Master Wylin reports that he has completed his interviews with the dungeon staff.” Braga got up and moved from behind his desk to face Arista. In his hand, he held a parchment, which he glanced at for reference. “He indicates you visited the prisoners after your brother and I left them. He says you brought two monks with you who were later found gagged and hanging in place of the prisoners. Is that true?”
“Yes,” she replied without embellishment. The archduke continued to stare at her, the silence growing between them. “I am a superstitious woman by nature, and I wanted to be certain they had last rites so their ghosts didn’t remain after their execution.”
“There is a report you ordered the prisoners unchained?” Braga took another step closer to her.
“The monks told me the prisoners needed to kneel. I saw no danger in it. They were in a cell with an army of guards just outside.”
“Did they also mention I left before the monks did? Or that I wasn’t there when the brutes grabbed them?” Arista pushed off the desk, causing her uncle to step back. She casually slipped past him and walked to the window which looked down at the castle courtyard. A man was chopping and stacking wood for the coming winter. “I will admit it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but I never thought they would escape. They were just two men!” She continued to stare out the window absently. Her gaze drifted from the woodcutter to the trees that had lost all their leaves. “Now is that all you wanted to know? Do I have the Chancellor’s permission to return to my duties as queen of this realm?”
“Of course, my dear.” Braga’s tone turned warmer. The princess left the window and moved toward the exit. “Oh, but there is one last thing.”
Arista paused at the doorway and glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“Wylin also reports the dagger used to kill your father is missing from the store room. Do you have any idea where it might be?”
She turned to face him. “Are you now accusing me of stealing?”
“I am simply asking, Arista,” the archduke huffed in irritation. “You don’t need to be so obstinate with me. I am merely trying to do my job.”
“Your job? I think you are doing much more than your job. No, I don’t know anything about the dagger, and stop pestering me with accusations thinly veiled as inquiries. Do it again and we shall soon see who rules here!”
Arista stormed out of Braga’s office, leaving Hilfred to jog a step to keep up with her. She promptly crossed the keep to the residences. Asking Hilfred to stand guard, she rushed up the steps of her personal tower. She entered her room, slammed the door shut, and locked it with a tap from the gemstone in her necklace.
Breathing heavily, she paused a moment, with her back pressed against the door. She tried to steady herself. She felt as if the room were swaying like a young tree in a breeze. She had been feeling that way often lately. The world seemed to be constantly swirling around her. Yet, this was her sanctuary, her refuge from the world. Here was the one place she felt safe, where she kept her secrets, where she could practice her magic, and where she dreamed her dreams.
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