by Janice Ayre
Chapter Ten
Friendship
The table for Uri's family was set at the back of the inn's kitchen. The table had been set with care, with a crisp tablecloth, and multiple dishes of various foods which both looked and smelt good. Conversation over the evening meal with the family suggested that they were not guarding him or monitoring his actions but rather offering friendship because Zebulon had told them that he was very lonely. But Uri was a long time friend of Zebulon's so Brock could not take any chances that some plan had been decided between them. Pleading tiredness, he retired to his room early. When he thought the family would be otherwise occupied he crept to the front door of the inn, only to be met by Uri.
"Going out?" Uri asked in surprise.
Brock responded with a well rehearsed answer for just such an occasion. "I found I couldn't sleep after all, so I thought a walk in the cool of the evening might help me,"
"The night air is known to induce sleep. It is quiet at the inn for now so I will take a walk with you. Keep you company,” he said kindly.
"Thank you,” Brock responded in dismay.
Brock had looked forward to stepping out into the cool and freedom of the night but Uri's presence made it impossible for Brock to carry out his intention of going to the other inn in search of Orville. The two strolled along the street. Uri was full of fatherly advice which Brock, believing it was well intended, even if misguided, accepted with outward patience while all the time subduing the burning desire in his heart.
For several days the family managed to stifle Brock's plans. A number of times he would catch sight of Orville at a distance but the young man wisely kept his distance. He could tell that Minerva was becoming bored with his company for his mind was elsewhere and he was very inattentive to any topic she introduced to him. She believed she must have been mistaken about her first interest in him but supposed it could be his illness that made him so uninteresting now.
It was not until the fourth day at the inn that Brock had formed an idea to free himself from supervision. The family was very busy because of an upcoming festival, so during the morning meal Brock put his plan into action. He had tried to be a model guest in every way so that the family would trust him.
“I have run out of herbs so I want to go to the herbalist this morning,” he said.
“Minerva was to help me this morning but if it can wait until the afternoon, she can go with you then,” said Elvira.
“No really, that won't be necessary.” Brock tried very hard to keep the sound of desperation out of his voice.
“Do you know the way?” asked Minerva hopefully.
“Yes, Zebulon has given me clear directions.”
Uri proved to be Brock's ally on this occasion. “Let the boy go by himself. He'll probably enjoy some time alone. Besides we have so much work to do.”
Once out of sight of the Four Star Inn, Brock changed direction and quickened his pace to reach the the smaller inn. He did not know if Orville would be there at this time of day, but at least he may ask some questions or leave a message there. Every nerve in the elf's body was strained as he approached the inn. He hoped he would not be disappointed. So tense was he that when a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder his body jolted in response.
"You're as stretched as tight as cowhide," said Orville. "Where have you been, I thought you would have come before now? Has the wizard stopped you from coming?"
Ignoring Orville’s comments, Brock began with a question of his own. "Where were you? You said you would meet me here on the next morning. I waited more than half the day."
"Oh that," said Orville. "I'm sorry, I got caught up with some business. I hoped you would have chosen to wait an extra day, but we can catch up now. Let's get a mug of ale."
"Not for me, I only want to talk," said Brock.
"That's fine. We do need to talk."
They settled themselves at the table where Orville had been sitting. He ordered another large mug of ale.
A sudden thought struck Brock and he asked. "How did you know Zebulon is a wizard?"
Orville gave a short laugh and tapped his head. "I'm smarter than people take me for. I know these things. I've even dabbled in some magic myself." He gave Brock one of his hungry stares and continued. “A lot of my friends are elves too.”
"Really, so you don't dislike elves?"
"Of course not!"
"So you knew all along that I am an elf?"
"Of course," answered Orville smugly.
Brock, who had been holding his breath unconsciously, expelled the air in one long sigh. "This will make it so much easier to talk to you."
"I hope so." Orville sat back in his chair and smiled. He sipped his ale with satisfaction as he watched Brock become more relaxed.
“You were to tell me about Zebulon and why Ambrose was sending soldiers after him,” Brock reminded Orville. “What did he do that was so wrong?”
“He stole from the farm.” Orville watched the effect this information had on the young elf. One part of him desired to be loyal and the other part was receiving confirmation of his suspicions that Zebulon had not told him everything.
“Do you know what he is supposed to have stolen?” the elf asked with hesitation.
“Something very valuable, like gems I believe.”
Brock turned noticeably pale.
“So you know this for yourself?” Orville encouraged the confidence of the elf by using a low conventional voice.
“I must be going,” was all Brock managed to say. He rose to leave.
Orville placed a restraining hand on Brock's arm. “Don't forget. I'm here for you. I can help you so that when they come for Zebulon you don't get caught too.” He released his hold on Brock.
“One more thing,” said Orville as Brock began to leave. “Clinton's pretty little sister forgives you and really misses you .”
That stopped Brock in his tracks. “How do you know that? Did she tell you?”
“Why, yes, she did.”
“But I thought you said you didn't really know Clinton.”
“When I said I didn't know him, I meant he wasn't my friend. But of course I know the family, they are important people round those parts. I am sorry I even told you. Just thought you would be happy to know,” said Orville in an injured tone.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to doubt you, I only wanted to be sure it was true.”
“Fair enough,” said Orville resuming his customary manner. “Meet me here same time tomorrow and I'll see if I can have some more news for you.”
Over the next few days they had multiple meetings, each one reinforcing the distrust Brock had for Zebulon and strengthening his belief that Orville was his friend. He encouraged Brock to confide in him, and to trust his judgement. Brock had found it easy now to disengage himself from the family as Uri and Elvira were very busy and Minerva made sure she had plenty to do. She found there were much more exciting things to do than baby sitting a boring elf.
One morning Orville gave Brock the news that the soldiers were only a short distance outside of the village and would be arriving within the next few days.
“You need to protect yourself. Everyone knows you were with Zebulon. You will be considered guilty too,” he told Brock.
“But if I leave, Zebulon will come after me.”
“Not if they capture him.”
“Zebulon is a very powerful wizard, they won't be able to hold him.”
“You're right. We need to protect you.”
Brock was now past the point of reasonable thinking. Many thoughts and ideas raced through his head but hardly any made sense to him. He looked to Orville for answers. “What will I do?”
Orville frowned and put his head to one side, considering the best solutions for Brock. “I am very good friends with a wizard who is much more powerful than Zebulon. He will protect you.”
“Why would he want to do that?”
“For such a young one you are full of questions. Because he will help any friend
of mine, that's why.” Orville stated simply. “We should leave tomorrow and I will take you to Mustafa.”
“I have to find a way to leave without my friends being suspicious.” Having said that, the answer came to Brock in the next minute. “I know what to do, I'll tell them I am going back to Zebulon.”
“Excellent idea. Meet me back here at dawn. Don't be late,” said Orville.
During a rushed evening meal Brock informed Uri and his family that he was well enough to return to Zebulon and planned to return the next morning.
“You will miss the festival if you go now. Wait a few days,” said Elvira.
“I could go and tell him and we could both come back here. I'll leave early so that we can reach here in time,” replied Brock.
“That's a great idea,” said Uri. “It will be most enjoyable to have him here.”
With everything satisfactorily arranged, Brock packed his few scant belongings and lay down to sleep. His sleep was fitful and the night seemed long. Finally the first light of dawn appeared and Brock hurried dressed and crept to the door. Having lied to his friends he did not have the courage to face them. He was soon out on the street and hurrying towards the small inn and his new future.
