by David
Aldric went on, before Loric could say more. “In truth, these are not lies at all.”
“I am not of Shimmermir, lord,” Loric objected. “I am an heir, but not of Emerald
Mountain.”
“There, I beg to disagree with you, Loric,” said Aldric, with a cunning smile.
Loric disliked that smile. “What is your game, lord? Your expression reeks of
skullduggery.”
“You are in fact the Heir of Emerald Mountain, by your mother’s blood,” Aldric informed him. “And it is by your mother that you can claim you are of Shimmermir.”
“My mother is Taeglinite, born and raised, lord,” Loric argued.
Aldric’s face disagreed.
A sickly feeling washed over Loric. It was plain by the look on Aldric’s countenance that the Lord of Egolstadt knew something more than he did, but was unwilling to share it. “What is the matter, lord?”
“Sir Palendar never told you,” he murmured, as if giving up his last breath.
Loric immediately prickled. “My father kept many secrets, lord. Out this one!”
“Adie is not your birthmother, Loric,” Aldric pronounced solemnly.
Loric first denied the words, questioning, “What lie do you speak? For it seems to have been birthed in the Black Pools from whence dragons rose.”
Aldric shook his head.
Loric’s bones went soft beneath him, until he slumped down against his door. “You speak no lie,” he realized, verbalizing his assessment.
Aldric seemed content to advance conversation without lingering over the issue of Loric’s real mother. “You will henceforth be known as Loric of Shimmermir, a distant cousin to me, come to enhance your skills in single combat and to learn all that I might teach you of command.”
“But, lord-” Loric tried to protest.
Aldric cut him short to say, “The first thing you must learn of command is how to follow one, Loric.”
“Understood, lord, but Princess Avalana already knows me as Loric of Taeglin,” Loric
blurted out, “and-”
“-and you will never pass for a Shimmerman anyway,” Aldric finished thoughtfully. “The people of Shimmermir are too cultured for your style. But the lie is already told, even if you could never pass as such.”
“I could so!” Loric snapped with righteous indignation.
“I intended no offense,” Aldric apologized. He crinkled his brow in thought for a moment, before he demanded, “Tell me how to milk a cow.” Loric had never milked a cow, but he had seen it done, so he started into his response in full detail. Aldric waved him to silence.
“Shimmermen do not know a thing about herd animals, Loric. Now do you see?”
Loric reluctantly nodded his understanding.
“You are a distant cousin to me, and that is no lie,” Aldric explained, his eyes intent upon Loric’s eyes, “from Jordy’s Vale in Shimmermir.” In answer to Loric’s doubtful expression, he said, “I know for a fact that your mother was born in Jordy’s Vale, which is a retreat for wealthy lords and ladies from Shimmermir.”
Adie is not my mother, Loric thought. I know nothing of this woman, who is my birthmother, but I want to know, he decided. “Tell me more of my mother, lord,” Loric begged, suddenly feeling as if this lying lord was the only honest man he had ever known. “What is her name?
What does she look like? Does she still dwell in Shimmermir? I would go to meet-”
“Peace! Be still,” Aldric commanded him. “I will tell all in due time, but be patient, Loric.”
“Why must I wait?” Loric demanded.
“Because I have more pressing matters to attend to before the feast than your family
history,” Aldric assured him. “I will tell you this: Lady Sadina of Shimmermir was the most beautiful woman to walk these shores since Queen Riana’s life was taken from the Great King, Luminus light them both.”
Loric felt a jab pound his heart. It was as if he had lost his mother to regain her, only to lose her again. “So, she is dead?” Loric questioned. “I mean, my lady mother, Sadina.”
Aldric nodded.
“Then, I suppose there is no hurry for me to go to Shimmermir and meet her,” he reasoned softly.
“We must focus on the here and now, Loric,” the Lord of Egolstadt said gently, to encourage his young squire.
“You are right about that, lord,” he agreed. “But what are we to do? Avalana knows me as Loric of Taeglin, as does Marblin of the city guard. I cannot pose as a man from all three: Taeglin, Shimmermir and this Jordy’s Vale that you have named.”
“Ah, but you can,” Aldric informed him. “And here is how it works to your advantage.
Jordy’s Vale is but a rural part of Shimmermir.”
“But that does not explain how I am from Taeglin, lord.”
“Taeglin is your second home, where you have dwelt to learn farming methods for your
people,” Aldric told him. “That is truthful in every way,” he added. “Now you have come into my service, to enhance your skills in single combat and to learn all that I might teach you of command, which is also true; is it not?”
I was not born in Taeglin, Loric thought glumly. To Aldric, he replied, “This seems like a terrible collection of half-truths. By my upbringing, it only takes one half-truth to make a whole lie.”
“This is the only way, Loric, else you will face severe punishments,” Aldric warned him.
“Punish me, if that is your wish!” growled Loric.
“I meant no threat to you, lad,” Aldric answered him firmly. “These punishments would come from Lord Garrick, for posing as someone other than you are, but your danger is far greater than that for being who you are.”
Loric rubbed his forehead and heaved a violent sigh. “If deceit is the only way-” he began hesitantly.
Aldric cut him off with a sharp word, interjecting, “Yes!” He went on more gently, adding,
“It is. Moreover, your very life could depend upon my skill in the lowly craft of lying and your willingness to accept the halves of this lord’s lies that are truthful. It is essential that you embrace concealment of certain truths about yourself whilst we visit Lord Garrick’s noble court, or your life will certainly be forfeit. For Beledon, you must do this.”
“For Beledon?” Loric inquired. “Truly, lord?”
Aldric nodded. “Yes. I swear it upon the Great King’s Honor.”
“That is a weighty vow,” Loric remarked. He was still uneasy about lying. It seemed
contradictory to a knight’s honor. He felt tightness in his chest as he said, “I will trust your lies, lord.”
“Never trust the lies of lords, Loric,” Aldric shared with a smirk. “That is a dangerous practice.”
“Is there no one or nothing I can trust, lord?” Loric asked, as he rose to step away from his door.
“Trust yourself,” Aldric commanded him. Then he left Loric alone to weigh the lies of lords against the honor of knights.
Chapter Ten
The Hall of Heroes
Loric swung the door shut behind Aldric, leaned against it, stared at its wood-grain pattern.
Those lines were as confusing to follow as those lies of lords that summed up Loric, Squire of Egolstadt. He clung to the door handle as though it could prevent him drowning in the current of wood-grain pattern and lordly deception.
Loric shouldered his body from the door and shuffled to his bed as he wrestled with
uncertainties relating to his circumstances. He sat on the end of his mat awhile, enjoying the softness of the pad beneath him, while he tried to cipher truth from lies. It was a hopeless task.
He tugged the two sets of tangled strands into a vexing knot, which he could not separate. In fact, it seemed to worsen as he drew upon this truth or that lie, until he flopped onto his back with a huff.
The young traveler from Taeglin--or was he from Shimmermir or Jordy’s Vale--needed a
distraction. The beauty of Al
dric’s lie is that I can claim all three places as my home and no one will hold my slip against me, once I explain it, he decided. In any case, he needed something else to do besides brooding over matters of knights and lords. He remembered Aldric’s advice to explore Moonriver Castle, so he rose to a sitting position and considered what he would like to see on site. Surely, there was something he should enjoy seeing. His answer came to him like a whisper on the wind.
“Yes,” he muttered to himself, “and I only need to go ten paces to find her.”
A knock at the door startled Loric awake from his daydream. He jumped to his feet and raced to answer it. He hesitated for a moment to look himself over in his pewter washbasin. Once he deemed himself presentable, he opened the door. Much to his disappointment, Marblin was waiting to greet him. Loric attempted to hide his expression of unwelcome from the city guard, who had escorted him to Avalana’s chamber by mistake.
Loric took closer note of the guardsman’s features on this, their second meeting. He was a stoutly built fellow of around fifty years, whose warm green eyes were set beneath a wrinkled brow. Looming above that permanently lined forehead was a collection of short-cropped brown curls that were fading into gray with the tally of years. He also wore a neatly trimmed beard of like color to his hair.
“Hallo,” said Marblin in greeting. “I just got off duty and I thought a newcomer like yourself might like a tour of Moonriver Castle, Sir Squire.”
“I hope you will not lead me astray, as you did earlier,” Loric remarked.
Marblin’s face fell. It was obvious that Loric’s callus words had hurt him. “I misguided you, Sir Squire?” he questioned.
“Please, call me Loric,” said he. In an effort to minimize the incident, he resigned himself to say, “It was a simple mistake.” Loric regretted bringing up the subject. He had not meant to sting the kindly guardsman with his thoughtless comment, so he downplayed it, saying, “You were not far astray. You simply pointed me to the wrong side of the corridor.”
“I’m glad that’s all it was,” Marblin said, sincerely relieved. “For a moment I thought I had blundered badly. Sometimes, I do, you see. Why, I once escorted a nobleman to the servants’
quarters and his servant to the guest chambers. It was all a mistake, of course.” Marblin rambled on, “I never intend to do these things, but I sometimes get a little mixed up inside my head. Well, one time I meant to do it-”
Loric interrupted him to say, “Oh, do tell on. I should love to hear all about it, but I would also like to see all that there is to see.” He was glad to have eased Marblin’s suffering over his error, and decided not to tell the man he had almost ended up abed with the Princess of Regalsturn.
“Oh!” Marblin chimed. “So, you want the tour then?” he asked, a merry expression lighting his features. “I’d be delighted to give it. Why didn’t you say so? Anyway,” continued the excited guardsman, “where was I?”
“You meant to lead someone astray?” Loric suggested, questioning the intention behind the deed.
“Oh yes, I remember!” Marblin declared, as he stepped into the hallway. “One time I led someone astray on purpose. You see, this sort of thing happens to me all the time, so I’m the only person--apart from you, now--who knows I intentionally misled the man. The fellow in question was King Turtioc of Nindronburg--you know, the usurper who leads the dragon
worshippers, curse them all!--who had come to discuss terms of truce with Lord Garrick. He had visited Moonriver a few times before, and each time he had been very rude to me. So, I says to myself, I’ll be condemned to the Black Pools if I give this one the royal treatment--it’s the worst room possible for him! Do you know what the irony is, lad?”
Loric closed the door to his chamber, giving a shake of his head in response, so Marblin continued, “I gave him the best room by mistake. But Turtioc was nicer to me during that visit than he had ever been over his many previous stays with us. He left hating Lord Garrick, just as he always has, but he is still kind to me when chance brings him back.”
Loric chuckled at the guard’s tale. He quickly found that, regardless of Marblin’s breathless rate of speech, the Moonwatcher, as he and the guards of Moonriver styled themselves, was an excellent guide. Despite his mishaps helping strangers to find their rooms--which was not his official duty, but rather, something that seemed to fall to him by happenstance, and with great regularity--the lifelong fortress resident knew every inch of the grounds, and almost everything one could want to know about the castle structure. Not only did Marblin share a wealth of information about the keep and the surrounding city, but he also knew how to maintain a slow, steady pace as he related the history behind it all, even the secret passageway from the Hall of Heroes to the stable. That allowed Loric to absorb a great deal of knowledge about Moonriver, which would certainly please Lord Aldric.
In addition to giving Loric a detailed tour, Marblin made excellent company for him. The older man helped the younger to forget the troubles of his heart and heritage for the day.
However, as evening drew near, the young traveler from Taeglin remembered that he had to make ready for a feast. Loric was also keenly aware that the Princess of Regalsturn was sure to attend. He thanked Marblin for his hospitality and companionship, and then he took leave of his new friend.
****
Aldric called upon Loric at the time of the great gathering, and they journeyed thither
together. The Lord of Egolstadt seemed distracted, as if his thoughts were on matters other than food, wine and dancing. The man scarcely uttered a word to his new squire during their long winding walk through those many corridors leading to the Hall of Heroes.
“What troubles you, lord?” Loric inquired.
Aldric shot him a quick glance and snapped, “It is nothing!” He sighed and offered more gently, “Rather, it is nothing of which I can speak.”
Loric questioned his lord no further concerning his somber mood. He only wished to make the most of the evening at hand. It was a magnificent event. People were all dressed in their finest raiment, and there was no shortage of food. Unfortunately for Loric, one of his duties was to see that Aldric’s cup never ran dry, which was an extraordinary feat to accomplish. About halfway through the meal, Loric and other servants received a break to sit and eat, for which the squire was grateful.
Loric saw Lord Garrick for the first time at the feast. He was a keen-eyed gentleman, whose green spheres took in every coming and going in and out of his hall. His light brown hair was long and thick, from his brow all the way down his back, with streaks of shiny silver threading their way through it. His broad muscular frame was wrapped in rich garments, which were velvet trimmed with silk, and dyed in aqua blue and wine red colors of his house. A thick, wiry beard concealed much of his lined face, which was as rugged as mountain stone. The man’s appearance met and exceeded Loric’s expectations of a great lord.
The lady of the house was also present. Lady Elena was tall and thin, so that a man of average height would have to look up to her. She had a friendly round face and long, chocolate brown hair. There were blond clusters intermingled with the dark brown ones, so that the unique patterns of her braids held Loric’s eye like a masterwork on a weaver’s loom. Her sharp green eyes were set into a handsome face that had been hardened by too many seasons to remain pretty.
She was well preserved, causing Loric to wonder how lovely she might have been in the days of her youth.
The man Aldric had addressed as lord earlier in the day was in fact Lord Garrick’s son, Garrett. Loric had noted during his time at Aldric’s elbow that Garrick was warm and friendly, while he could only classify Garrett as a pompous snob. Unlike His Lordship of Durbansdan, nothing was ever satisfactory in the eyes of the haughty heir. Such unappreciative behavior troubled Loric, who could foresee days of Garrett’s rule as sorrowful times ahead, even without aid from his visions.
Whilst great warlords at court plotted the ruinations of Garrick’s rivals, les
ser lords and ladies began to dance. Then the Princess of Regalsturn walked in. Lovely Avalana sparkled like sunshine on waves. Her hair was braided, so that it hung down her back like a platinum length of rope. Her blue eyes were bright and alive as they scanned the hall. Loric thought he might have imagined it, but it seemed as though the lady smiled when her gaze fell upon him. He returned the kindly expression, even as her father escorted her to Lord Garrick’s table.
Loric wondered what had delayed her coming--perhaps it had been gathering the flock of handmaidens she had acquired upon her arrival at Moonriver Castle--but she was here now, and the young traveler from Taeglin was delighted to see her again. Then Aldric beckoned his squire to fill his cup, thereby reminding Loric of his true purpose for attending the function. He reluctantly looked away from the princess and her radiance in favor of a wine bottle and Aldric’s chalice.
After the princess and the king ate their shares and gave them ample time to settle, they also joined in the dancing. The lady was like a swan--the very embodiment of grace and beauty. Loric admired her from his place at Lord Aldric’s side. She appeared to float rather than dance; for her movements were so smooth, one could scarcely see her feet touching the ground. Loric was enchanted.
Garrett stepped forward to take Avalana’s hand, and Loric watched jealously as he and the lady skimmed across the floor. The princess was having a wonderful time, which only added to Loric’s misery. Despite her dance with Garrett, Loric noticed that Avalana’s eyes strayed from her partner to him many times. Although he wished he could trade places with the arrogant lord who now held Avalana so close beside him, Loric found comfort in her divided attention between them, and thereby knowing she had not forgotten him, even at a distance.
Following Avalana’s final dance with Garrett, a servant extended a silver tray with a golden cup toward the couple. The princess politely declined. The bearer’s face darkened. At first, Loric thought he had imagined it, until Garrett lifted the goblet, whereupon the servant’s jaw stretched as though strapped to a torture wrack. Something is amiss here, Loric reasoned. Could it be a drink of venom? questioned his inner voice. Certainly, that could not be the case, his good reason answered him, thereby discarding the notion. However, doubt nagged at him, begging to know, At what risk would you do nothing? Is it worth the future of Durbansdan and Beledon?
