Heir Apparent

by Vivian Vande Velde

  "What's this Arthur king of?" the guard asked. "And why did he keep his sword in a stone?"

  "Never mind," I said. But I tugged, anyway.

  And the bridge started to come up. Easily.

  Some of the guards who'd come to see and give their advice backed away suspiciously. But most cheered and congratulated me.

  Strange, I thought, but since it ended well, I wasn't going to complain.

  They took over raising the bridge the rest of the way, having no trouble now, and I went to find Wulfgar.

  In the castle the servants were already up and working: preparing breakfast, opening the windows to air out the rooms, heating water for the laundry. The royal family was not yet up.

  I banged on Wulfgar's door.

  No answer.

  I banged again.

  There was a sleepy mumble—probably he told me to go away.

  I kept on banging. The servants who had been in the hall ran for cover.

  Wulfgar flung open the door. He had on a nightshirt, and his hair was all askew, and his eyes were still puffy from sleep. "What," he growled, "is the meaning of this?"

  "Knocking on a door?" I asked innocently. "That's an ancient custom among many peoples of the world signifying: Please let me in."

  Wulfgar drew his lips back from his teeth but retained human form.

  "I need your help," I told him, "to get the treasury back."

  "Ask fascinating, remarkable, wow!-imagine-that Abas."

  Was that the way I sounded? "I need you." I could see he was winding himself up for a sarcastic comeback, so I added, "And your special talents."

  He raised an eyebrow and waited.

  In this lifetime I hadn't seen him turn into a wolf. I said, "I understand you were raised elsewhere."

  "Yes." He gave a definitely wolfish grin.

  "I need you to track down Rawdon."

  "No," he said.

  "He stole our treasury."

  "Raise our taxes."

  No time. Plus, of course, that would make the peasants even surlier. "Please," I said.

  He closed the door in my face.

  I untied the magic ring from its makeshift necklace. I banged on the door some more. This time when it flew open, I said, "Take this ring."

  Wulfgar's eyes grew wide and frightened. No doubt he had no desire to take the ring, and yet he found his hand moving to take it. He knew he was bespelled.

  He took the ring and slipped it onto his finger.

  I said, "First, I need you to protect me from harm."

  His expression didn't become any less murderous, but I knew that now I was safe from him—and from others while he was beside me.

  "Next, I want you to come back to Fairfield with me and help me find where Rawdon has hidden the treasure."

  Wulfgar stepped out into the hall.

  "You may get dressed first," I told him.

  I figured men can always dress faster than women, so there wasn't time for me to get into something more practical, even if I knew where to get it. Sure enough, Wulfgar wasn't long. He wore such a fierce expression that the castle dogs whined and slunk away from us, their tails between their legs.

  The guards lowered the drawbridge again for us to cross. I called out for them to keep the bridge up, even during the day, in case of attack. After we'd gone over, I heard the guard yell that we were clear.

  No sound of a raising bridge from behind us.

  "Raise the bridge!" the guard yelled.

  Nothing.

  Well, I couldn't close it from this side. Something else for me to look into when I got back.

  IN FAIRFIELD, people from the town had gathered at the burned and tumbled remains of the church, drawn by the presence of the wagons and the squad of guards. Seeing that the wagons were empty and the guards were mostly lazing around, I gathered that there still was no sign of the treasure.

  I led Wulfgar through the minimaze of rubbled church to the first room of the catacombs. Both pairs of men I had set to search were there, along with the man assigned to make torches. The searchers started explaining—before I said a word—that they'd just come back for replacement torches. I figured I'd returned faster than they anticipated and I'd caught them taking a break. I'd been gone four hours—which was probably about how long their break had lasted.

  "That's all right," I said. "Stay here. Prince Wulfgar and I will search now."

  Taking a torch, I led Wulfgar through to the third room, the one where the catacomb maze started. "I want you to find Rawdon's trail," I said. "We will go together. Don't try to lose me." I had another thought. "And if we do get separated, I want you to come looking for me right away. You are not to let any harm befell me."

  "You already said that about no harm," Wulfgar said.

  "Just reminding you."

  Wulfgar didn't say any magical words that I heard; and I didn't see him make any magical-looking gestures. He simply suddenly shrank, fell forward, and transformed into a wolf.

  Too late it occurred to me that the ring was bound to fell off the toe of his paw. Would that stop the spell? But the ring kept hold, even when Wulfgar padded on all four feet to the left-hand door.

  He walked at a steady pace that kept me at a breathless half run.

  If you slow down, he'll have to slow down, too, because you commanded him not to lose you, I told myself. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that I couldn't keep up.

  There wasn't any pattern to our path, and there were too many intersections, with most of the rooms too similar to be distinctive. Sometimes the dead bodies had mummified; sometimes they were simply bones; sometimes the bones were scattered on the floor; sometimes they were mostly in their carved wall niches. (The wooden shelves were only for those rooms closest to the entrance.) We went through one section where an underground stream must pass near, for several of the rooms were damp, and in two of them we had to wade through puddles that came up to my ankles. There had also been cave-ins in several of the rooms, which I sincerely hoped had happened a long time ago.

  Long after I'd given up trying to make sense of our direction, Wulfgar suddenly stopped. He'd slowed down two or three times before, to sniff at the tunnels, but now he suddenly reverted back to human shape.

  "What?" I asked.

  "Counselor Rawdon," he said.

  I lowered my voice to the faintest whisper, just in case Rawdon hadn't heard us coming or seen the light from my torch. "Where?" I asked because there were two possible doorways, plus the one we were closest to, which had collapsed—though surely Rawdon wouldn't have wanted to make his way over that pile each time he came, I thought.

  Imitating me, Wulfgar whispered dramatically, "There."

  For a moment I thought he meant that Rawdon was in the room beyond the pile of stones and dirt where the doorway had collapsed. But then I saw the foot that was sticking out of the pile, the foot that was neither bone nor mummified flesh. Proof that cave-ins happened as recently as within the last day.

  "Do you think he's dead?" I asked.

  "No, I think he's napping."

  "He could just be injured," I protested.

  Without answering, Wulfgar scrambled up the pile of collapsed catacomb, ignoring the body. He had to duck to squeeze through what was left of the opening.

  I was going to say, "Not so fast," but when I got to the top, I could see into the next room. Wulfgar hadn't moved on, but stood among dozens of sacks that were stacked on top of one another. Beneath my feet, protruding from this end of the cave-in, was a small hand-pulled cart onto which several of the bundles had been loaded. The force of the cave-in had knocked some of the bags off) and one had split open, scattering gold coins, which glinted in the light of my torch.

  "He must have been trying to move the gold out of here," Wulfgar said. "He might even have been heading for one of the seaports, to hire a boat and leave the country. I'm guessing he rushed too much."

  That was my guess, too—that Rawdon had accidentally smacked int
o the doorway with his overloaded cart, not realizing that this entire area was weakened by the moisture of that nearby water.

  That was something for me to remember and be careful of.

  "All right," I said. "This time we need to go slowly so that I can make scratches with my stone to mark the way for the guards to find their way here." I'd use double arrows, one after the other, to identify the correct way. "We'll let the men dig this out, gather the money, return it to the castle in the wagons at whatever speed they can make. But the two of us won't wait—we should be getting back as soon as we can to check on the situation with the barbarians."

  Wulfgar used the toe of his boot to poke at the stones covering Rawdon. "One of us hasn't had breakfast," he grumbled.

  Even with all the trouble Rawdon had caused, I refused to consider letting Wulfgar snack on him. "Neither of us has," I assured him, tugging on his arm. "Don't you dare even think about that."

  "Even magic can't control thinking," he said wistfully.

  BY THE TIME I had carefully marked out the route and given instructions on how many men to have carrying the treasury out and how many men to have guarding the treasury that had been carried out, so that the people of Fairfield didn't walk off with it, I had a crisis of faith—not over my trailblazing abilities or even my troops' mental abilities, but over how hard it would be for the average guardsman to remain honest in the face of so very much money. They could easily decide that a kingdom's treasury, divided among the fifty of them, was more money per guard than any of them was ever likely to see again.

  "Wulfgar," I ordered, "you'll have to stay behind. Keep an eye on the men. Make sure they don't take any of the money for themselves. Then help guard the convoy on the way back."

  "I haven't even broken my fast yet," Wulfgar complained again.

  Well, none of us had.

  "Send a few of the men into town to buy provisions for everyone," I said. I knew Wulfgar was only cooperating because the ring compelled him to, so I specified: "Don't be excessive with spending the money, but pay a fair price. And return to the castle as quickly as you can in safety."

  I couldn't think of any loopholes I'd left. Which didn't mean Wulfgar wouldn't find one.

  "No plotting against me," I added.

  Wulfgar saluted then spat on the ground, just barely missing my toes.

  BY THE TIME I made the two-hour trip back home, I had a strong suspicion that lunch was probably over.

  I could see that eventually they'd gotten the bridge up without me, though now they had to lower it once more.

  Captain Penrod was standing on the castle wall as I approached. I waved and held up the one sack of gold I'd brought with me in case any skeptical guards needed proof that the money had been found. Penrod returned my wave, and I heard a cheer from the guards as word of my success was passed.

  My horse clattered over the drawbridge, and the eager guards gathered around.

  I tossed the bag to Penrod and said, "That's the first of it. The rest is about a half-day behind."

  Penrod handed the bag over to one of his lieutenants and helped me dismount. I had a sore butt from all the riding I'd done, Lady Bliss's red gown was stiff and stinky with sweat—not to mention tattered and muddy—and I'd had absolutely no sleep last night and no breakfast this morning.

  We watched as the guards were unable to reraise the bridge.

  "Any idea what that's all about?" I asked Penrod.

  He shook his head. "They say it's as though the bridge is weighted down, but then that weight goes away after a little while."

  "That 'little while' could be the death of us in case of enemy attack," I warned. "Can a new mechanism be made?"

  Penrod passed that down to his men as an order.

  "How are things going?" I asked him.

  "Not badly," he answered, but so hesitantly I knew he wasn't telling the truth.

  "You might as well tell me now," I said.

  "The messengers you sent to find the barbarian camp returned."

  Because of his dismal expression, I guessed, "The barbarians didn't accept our offer of peace?"

  "The messengers returned without their heads."

  That sounded like a definite no to me.

  Now what?

  "All right," I said. "I absolutely need to lie down, just for a bit. I'm so tired I can hardly walk straight, much less think straight."

  "Oh," Penrod said.

  "'Oh' what?"

  "It's just that the meeting has already started."

  "What meeting?"

  "With the magic-users—Uldemar, Orielle, and Xenos."

  I was pleased to hear they'd arrived, but, "Who are they meeting with?" I asked.

  "Queen Andreanna," Penrod said.

  I guessed there wasn't time for a nap, quick or otherwise.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Magic Realism (without the Realism)

  When I got to the Great Hall, the doors were closed and two guards stood in front, which I gathered was Queen Andreanna's subtle way of letting me know I wasn't invited.

  "Make way for the king," I commanded, never acknowledging a thought that they wouldn't.

  Assertiveness sometimes pays off. The guards were so quick to open the doors that the little guy with the trumpet didn't have a chance to blow a fenfire.

  "Oh," Andreanna said as I entered, "look. It's the pig girl."

  "Sheep," I corrected automatically.

  They were all sitting around one of the dining tables—no serving side this time: the queen, Abas, Kenric, two guys I didn't know, and one woman I didn't know. Actually, the woman wasn't sitting at the table; she was sitting on Kenric's lap, though there was plenty of room on the bench, particularly since I'd left Wulfgar behind in Fairfield. She looked like any teenage boy's fantasy: a Barbie-doll figure that defied gravity, a supermodel's face, lustrous black skin, and about fifteen pounds' worth of cornrowed hair fastened off with tiny golden bells. Her outfit was composed exclusively of leather, lace, and strategically placed metal. Wulfgar had said Orielle was better-looking than the other magic-users. I would be willing to bet my college fund that Orielle was better-looking than 99 percent of the world's population.

  There was no sign of Sir Deming or Sister Mary Ursula—apparently the queen didn't feel she needed advisers.

  "Please send for the royal advisers," I said to the guards.

  The queen was making an irritated face, but for once it wasn't about me. "Close the doors, you incompetent fools," she ordered.

  I turned and saw that although the guards were tugging on the doors, the doors weren't moving.

  The queen sighed.

  The page put down his trumpet and joined in the guards' efforts to close the doors. Nothing. Even when all three men concentrated on one door and hurled their weight at it, it wouldn't close.

  Don't tell me the castle itself is rebelling against me, I thought.

  "Abas, can't you do something?" the queen said.

  "I can do lots of things," Abas protested.

  The queen sighed again. "Can't you do something about the door?"

  The guards moved out of Abas's way. He pushed. Nothing. He pushed harder. Still nothing. He moved around to the other side and pulled. The doorknobs and the ornate metal plates to which they were attached yanked out of the wood. Abas handed them to the guards, then returned to our side of the doors and once again pushed. I saw the muscles on his arms bulge, the muscles on his back ripple, the muscles on his thighs expand like they were about to pop. There was a creaking noise of wood protesting. Then the huge oaken doors cracked, split, and fell in shards. Without the hinges having budged.

  What was going on?

  "Well, that was quite useful," Kenric said.

  Abas shrugged and returned to the table.

  The queen gestured for the guards and the page to leave.

  As they picked their way through the pile of splintered wood, the page reached behind him—it must have been mindless force of habit—to pull closed
the piece of door that was still attached to the hinges. It swung easily.

  The people at the table looked at me suspiciously.

  Luckily, with such a limited number of them, they couldn't crowd me out this time. I would have preferred to sit on the same side of the table as the any-other-female-would-feel-like-a-poster-child-for-the-criminally-ugly-compared-to-her Orielle, so I wouldn't have to look at her; but she was sitting on Kenric's lap, and he was sitting on Andreanna's left, with Abas having returned to Andreanna's right. If I wanted to sit on that side, I would have had to sit directly next to Orielle. There was a space between the two men who sat on the other side of the table, as well as more room at either end of the bench they shared. I decided on the middle seat, to avoid what might be interpreted as favoritism.

  "This," Queen Andreanna said in the same tone someone would use to point out a backed-up toilet, "is Princess Janine. Princess Janine"—she managed to look down her nose even though she wasn't quite feeing me—"these are Orielle, Uldemar, and Xenos."

  "Hello," I said to the wizard on my right, Xenos.

  He was dressed in a brown monk's robe, with the hood pulled up around his face.

  Shy little guy, I figured. I made a point of smiling at him until he looked up at me. I noticed the pointy, hairy ears about the same time I realized that what he was pulling out of his pocket and popping into his mouth were live centipedes. He glared as though he was sure I was just waiting for the chance to grab his lunch away from him.

  I edged toward Uldemar, who announced in a booming voice: "She brings the stench of the dead with her."

  Talk about getting personal.

  I turned to face him. He was the wizard I'd glimpsed in the coming attraction. I'd noticed that he was very tall and that his head was shaved. But now, close up, I gulped, for I saw what I hadn't had time to see in the promo: His eyes were like Ping-Pong balls—totally white, with no pupils or irises.

  Stammering, I said, "I—I've just come back from the catacombs. There were dead people there." Of course there are dead people in the catacombs, I mentally chided myself. They know that. Stop blathering. I said, "I—I've recovered the stolen treasure." I'd kept a handful from the bag I'd given to Penrod, and I placed this on the table to prove my story.