A Perjury of Owls

by Michael Angel

  The four owls took to the air and vanished from the throne room as quickly and quietly as they’d arrived.

  And my plans to move first on Belladonna’s words lay shattered beyond repair.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “We have a week at most,” I announced to my three friends, as we reconvened in my tower room. “In that time, I’m supposed to join a group to visit Sir Talish’s estate, somewhere in the Western Reach. Officially, it’s to honor the memory of the Albess.”

  “And unofficially, to see if she was slain, or murdered,” Liam said, finishing my thought. “I’m still in shock over Thea’s demise. Part of me wants you to find out that it was murder.”

  “Aye,” Shaw agreed. “Thus we might exact vengeance upon the guilty party. ‘Tis seems so convenient that a ‘rogue’ reptile might slay her. Yet I must ask: what difference doth a week make?”

  I held my hands out towards the fire that Galen had started in the tower hearth. I was still used to thermostats and forced air heating. Without a fire constantly going, the round stone chamber that made up my meeting space could turn as cold as the OME’s chiller room.

  “It’s important, because that’s when King Fitzwilliam’s treasury starts running critically low. That’s the same treasury that pays for keeping up this palace, the salaries for everyone in the Royal Guard, the servants, and the all-important monetary ‘gifts’ to his Lords.”

  “Surely, thy benefactor has gold aplenty.”

  “Not necessarily,” Galen pointed out. “Much as I admired the Good King Benedict, he frequently bestowed lavish gifts upon commoners, lords, and above all, himself. His talents lay in enjoying the life of profligate consumption, as opposed to fiscal management. Then, after his murder, the royal coffers were administered by Magnus, in his guise as Duke Kajari.”

  Shaw made a snort of leonine contempt. “I do not recall thy nemesis being especially generous.”

  “Not publically. However, he spent substantially behind the scenes to retain his power, mostly by bribing lords who mistrusted the idea of his running the kingdom until Benedict’s son could return. On top of this, Fitzwilliam’s proposed budget has been sitting unsigned on Parliament’s perch since he first wished to hire Dayna as the Court Forensics Examiner. Meaning that the kingdom has already been operating out of the royal coffers for quite some time now.”

  “The wells aren’t even dry yet, and the lords are already restless,” I said, as the warmth penetrated my cold hands. “Behnaz claims that unless he gets the bulk of the remaining royal funds, the Western Reaches will collapse into anarchy.”

  “He does have problems with banditry,” Liam admitted. “And with keeping discipline amongst the mercenaries he originally hired to keep the bandits down. My people have had to put up magical wards to discourage them from encroaching upon our woods.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair, trying my best not to tug it out in frustration. “Of course, Lord Ivor countered this by saying that he should get the bulk of what gold remains, or the Eastern Reaches will collapse into bankruptcy and ruin.”

  “Fitzwilliam hath stripped Behnaz of all trained dragons and Air Cavalry units,” Shaw acknowledged. “T’was to punish him and limit his power. Ivor has them in his care now. ‘Tis a princely sum indeed to keep these units in fighting shape.”

  “Ivor doesn’t retain all of the kingdom’s aerial assets,” Galen clarified. “Fitzwilliam keeps a lance of dragons at the palace’s Southern Keep for rapid deployment to the West.”

  I shook my head. “It makes little difference. Fitzwilliam’s assessment of his kingdom is correct. There are too many men in Andeluvia without enough warring for their tastes. The money to keep them happy and employed has to keep flowing. And in a week…”

  Liam gave me a startled look. “Will the King force you to step down? Is that even possible?”

  “I don’t believe there is precedent,” Galen considered. “And let us not forget that your investiture was presented by three separate kingdoms outside Fitzwilliam’s.”

  “The wizard speaks true!” Shaw bobbed his head forcefully. “We would not take thy humiliation and dismissal lightly!”

  “I appreciate it, guys,” I said, as I turned away from the fire. “Personally, I’d rather step down before jeopardizing the kingdom, but honestly I don’t think it would do any good. This is about more than Raisah’s refusal to sign a budget, or Fitzwilliam getting around the owl’s objections to hiring me by making me a Dame. She’s actually willing to destabilize this entire kingdom – the one that provides her people with their jobs!”

  And speaking of jobs, I thought bitterly, this ‘Dame’ thing could end up being the shortest one I’ve ever had.

  “Truly, these are troubling times,” Galen sympathized. “Given the shortage of currency caused by the owls, the most prudent course would be to refrain from conspicuous displays of wealth or frippery until the crisis passes.”

  There was a rat-tat-tat machine gun rapping at the door. Shaw sidled over, hooked one of his lion’s paws around the wide-set iron handle, and pulled the door open. The rail-thin man outside came face-to-beak with Grimshaw’s stern face.

  “Oh my, oh my!” he quavered, in a high-pitched voice. “Nice…griffin?”

  “Speak thy peace, knave,” Shaw rumbled, “Else I shall clout thee.”

  “Might…Dame Chrissie be in residence?”

  “Aye. Speak with care to her, else I might have to eject thee most forcefully,” he growled. The man scurried past, never quite turning his back on the griffin. I couldn’t blame him. Griffins were pretty darned intimidating to begin with, and Shaw radiated a playful dangerousness on top of that.

  The man came to a halt before me. Ignoring both centaur and Fayleene, he looked me over critically from head to toe. I suppose that I did the same right on back, because he wore the most garish outfit I’d yet seen in Andeluvia.

  Compared to my own world’s Middle Ages, Andeluvians seemed to have a pretty good handle on fabric dyes. The difference between rich and poor was marked less by color type and more by the vividness of the shades. By that standard, this fellow was very rich indeed.

  His shiny black shoes were sharply pointed, like the king’s formal footwear. His long, scrawny legs were covered in bright green hose, making them look like beanpoles. And his doublet was a rich checkerboard of red and black squares, each containing the silhouette of an animal or an abstract symbol. A roundlet-style hat the exact shade of eggplant hung from his high domed head at a sharp angle.

  As a matter of fact, this fellow was all angles, from sharp jaw and jutting nose to pointy knees. His deep-set black eyes were keenly intelligent, and he held a leather bound book like a precious family keepsake in the crook of his arm. Aside from his surprise at seeing Shaw at the door, he seemed confident and in his element.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “I am Herald, the Lord of the Pursuivant,” he said, giving me a shallow bow. He paused as if waiting for something, long enough so that the moment grew slightly awkward.

  “So…what can I do for you, Lord Herald?”

  “Herald is fine, Dame Chrissie. Though my title includes Lord, I am strictly an officer of the court, not a noble.” He paused, adding, “You…that is, you are Dame Chrissie?”

  That didn’t sound flattering. “Yes, that would be me. Is there a problem?”

  “No! No, not at all,” he said, his tongue almost tripping over itself in his haste to apologize. “It’s just that I was expecting…well, someone quite different.”

  “Different? How?”

  “Ah. Well. Now we come to delicate matters,” he said, shifting his book from one arm to the other. “I had heard of your encounter with Sir Varad, you see, and the description was rather lurid.”

  I traded a look with my three friends. “Go on.”

  “It is said that when he insulted you, you grabbed one of the greatswords that hang in the halls to use on him. Furthermore, I hear that you lopped off Var
ad’s manhood…and, er, stuffed it in his mouth, then used a bulrush whip to flog him about the palace grounds.”

  Galen put his hand over his mouth and did his best to look serious. Shaw and Liam each turned away so that I couldn’t see their faces, but their bodies shook with laughter. I made a theatrical sigh. In for a penny and all that…

  “That is nothing but a base, unfounded rumor,” I said sternly. “I did not, as a matter of fact, flog Sir Varad about the palace grounds.”

  “And the rest?” the Lord of the Pursuivant asked meekly.

  “Herald, I wish you to call me Dayna when we are in private,” I said, heartily clapping him on the shoulder. “Do you know why?”

  He shook his head.

  “Because when I get mad, I try not to cut off the private parts of anyone I’ve trusted with my first name.”

  Herald gulped. “I shall consider myself blessed, then.”

  “You do that. Now, the King told me to expect you, since I needed someone to describe my duties.”

  “Yes, all that and much more,” he said, patting his huge book. “Among other things, I am to first help you select your new heraldry, your knightly sigil.”

  “That’s the first thing?” I asked, surprised.

  “Oh, of course, of course! We need your sigil for use in the festival.”

  I started getting a bad feeling about this. “What festival?”

  “Why, the one celebrating your ascension as the new Dame of the Court, Dayna!” The prospect seemed to invigorate him. “It is rare, perhaps once in a generation that we get a new piece of heraldry to design. Your device shall fly proudly on twenty-foot golden damask banners along every major street of the city – so everyone shall know who you are!”

  Both Shaw and Liam, who had finally turned back around, looked as shocked as a deer and a griffin could be. Galen’s mouth actually dropped open at Herald’s visions. As the wizard had said, given the grumblings of the nobles, my best bet was to keep my head low.

  So this ‘festival’ would be a dream come true for every newly minted knight, dame, or lord.

  But it had to come to me at this exact time.

  You know, there are times where I’m sure that if I didn’t have rotten luck, I’d have no luck at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Let’s put a pin in the festival thing for now,” I said. “Can we talk about the specifics for my Damehood as per King Fitzwilliam?”

  The change in subject didn’t dent Herald’s enthusiasm one bit. “Very well, then I shall go over the terms of your investiture, as spelled out to me by the King himself!”

  The Lord of the Pursuivant put his heavy book down on the table as I and my friends gathered round. Reaching into a pocket cut into the side of his doublet he pulled out a scroll of parchment. The parchment had been sealed with a dried purple blob of wax and imprinted with the figure of a rampant griffin. A quick jab with a thumbnail, and Herald broke the seal and began reading.

  “Let’s see…I hereby declare this document valid, as King Fitzwilliam, son of the Good King Benedict and line of Julian the Conqueror…blah blah blah…” The scroll crinkled, shedding bits of wax as he rotated its axis. “Ah, here we are, here we are. Dame Chrissie holds all typical knightly assignments given by the King, but shall not be required to remain within her demesnes unless specifically ordered.”

  That worked for me. Not only did it leave me free to travel between worlds, it meant I didn’t have to clock in and out.

  “What does ‘typical knightly assignments’ mean?” I asked.

  “You might be called upon to perform a ceremony for the court, things of that nature,” Herald said offhandedly, before adding, “Oh, that’s right. You did not grow up within a ‘knightly’ culture. Chiefly, this means that you could be summoned to war at any time of the monarch’s choosing.”

  “Great,” I said, without enthusiasm.

  “A realm such as ours needs heroes. And heroines, for that matter of fact,” he added quickly. “Let’s see…King Fitzwilliam has given you some token strips of land in the foothills to the south. However, he has decided to grant your request for grounds within the walls of his palace. Specifically, this entire four-level tower.”

  “Really?” This actually surprised me. I was hoping for just the turret room, but this was a lot more generous than I’d even thought to ask for. “I’m not evicting anyone, am I?”

  “The room below this one was a former guardhouse, now a little-used armory. The two rooms under that are used to store various dry goods. You might speak with a stonemason to create an entry if you’d like to convert them into, say, chambers for sleeping and bathing. Which reminds me of something.” Herald fumbled in his pocket a second time, and gave me a brass circlet with a set of five keys. Each key was a thick slab of metal longer than my hand. “Four of these go to your tower’s rooms. The fifth is in deference to your gender. The King has granted you sole access to the necessarium down the hall.”

  “The what?”

  Herald’s cheeks turned ever so slightly pink. “The, ah, privy.”

  “A private washroom? I’ll have to thank the King for that.”

  “While you have not been granted private servants, you can call on the royal pages at any time. They can provide you with food, drink, and supplies in the quantities you request, though anything ‘excessive’ should probably be cleared by His Majesty.”

  Room service, too. I was liking this more and more.

  “As a liege of our monarch, you are entitled to pick out a half-suit of plate or a full kit of mail from the armory, and two weapons of your choice. There is some sort of discount offered on repairs, though you will have to speak to the blacksmith on your own about it.”

  I envisioned a paper card with little anvil shaped hole punches. As for the two weapons of choice, I’d have to think about it for a while. Maybe I could gift someone a mace or something for Christmas.

  “There is one final item of note. His Majesty has suggested that you look into having some new clothes made. Apparently, he feels that the more you look like an Andeluvian, the easier it will be for the nobles to accept you at court.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “Is there a royal tailor or something?”

  “There is, and I have been tasked to convey your measurements to him.” Herald dug a third time in his pocket and came up with a length of orange string. “May I?”

  I nodded, and he proceeded to use the string like a tape measure. I didn’t see any markings along its length, so I was more than a little puzzled how the thing worked, but Herald did seem to know his business. I raised my arms or stood straight as needed, until he had committed my numbers to memory.

  “If I have a choice, I’d like a piece of clothing other than a court gown,” I suggested. “I really need something I can travel in, especially as it’s getting cold.”

  Herald rubbed the tips of his outstretched fingers together for a moment. Apparently that was one of the man’s tics when he was busy thinking. “I think that can be accommodated. Now, as to your heraldic device for the festival–”

  “Ah, yeah. That. As I said, let’s put a pin in it.”

  He blinked. “Perhaps I am unsure what that phrase means.”

  “It means to come back to it later. Tell you what, I’ll think on it and let you know what I come up with.”

  Give Herald credit, at least he could hear the dismissal in my voice. He placed the book he’d brought on the table next to the scroll, bowed to each of us, and then turned to leave. “Very well, Dayna. If you can, be sure to page through my book of heraldic devices. You may find inspiration in it for your own sigil. I will look forward to the time you call upon me.”

  “So do I. Um, how do I get in touch with you?”

  “My advice would be to install a bell to summon a page. It’s considered unseemly to tramp through the palace demanding to see people.”

  “I’ll put it on my to-do list,” I promised, and showed him out the exit. />
  As he left, I spotted movement from the corner of my eye.

  It could have been a trick of the light, but I swore I’d seen the shadowy form of an owl flitting off down the corridor.

  I shut the door then set the key ring on the table and sat down, feeling suddenly dejected. Yes, getting the tower as my headquarters was a step up in this world. But it didn’t change the fact that I was being watched all the time.

  “Thou hast spotted our raptor friends, I take it,” Shaw said. “I was not sure whether to tell thee. All thy movements are being noted by Raisah.”

  “I smelled them from the first,” Liam added. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to take measures. They cannot hear our discussions in here.”

  “We’re probably secure, but there’s no sense not being careful,” I agreed. “What were the things you spoke of before? Wards? Can you put one up outside our office here?”

  Liam closed his eyes and inclined his head slightly. His antlers glowed for a second.

  “Done. My wards do not kill, but they will make any owl lurking in the hall outside very uncomfortable.”

  “That’s something, at least.”

  “I perceive that there is more to your melancholy,” Galen said gently. “Will you share your burden with us?”

  “I need to let you all know something,” I sighed. “Shelly Richardson, my friend from the OME…she went missing as of last night.”

  Galen let out a gasp. “That is appalling news. And rather peculiarly timed, considering the straits we find ourselves in.”

  “I only met her once,” Liam said, “But she seemed a true companion to you. This is sad news indeed.”

  “I do not know thy friend,” Shaw added, “Yet could this be related to Thea’s murder?”

  “Yes and no,” I said gloomily. “I mean, I don’t think the owls directly have anything to do with it. But she’d been acting strangely before she disappeared, probably close to a week ago. I was at her house, the door was unlocked and nothing had been ransacked or stolen. It’s like she just decided to walk out the front door and never come back.”