The Bellringer

by William Timothy Murray

  "Hm. And what connects him to my brother's murder?"

  "Your father."

  "What?"

  "Your father hired Bailorg to kill Navis."

  "That's ludicrous! Why?"

  "Your father and the King now have an accord with Shatuum."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Your father auctioned you to Secundur in exchange for the use of his black eagles."

  Esildre shook her head disbelievingly.

  "When Navis set out after you, the King at first forbade it. I believe he did so out of charity for your brother, a great hero and well liked in Duinnor. It was your father who convinced the King to permit the expedition. And it was your father who provided Navis with his travel companions and his guide. Navis told me so himself before departing Duinnor. As I said in my letter to you, I was against it. It filled me with dread and worry. I myself prepared to go with him, but I was summoned to the Palace and placed under false arrest for a minor infraction of law. A week later, when the charges were dropped and I was released, Navis had departed. I am now convinced that my arrest was contrived to keep me from accompanying your brother. From preventing his murder."

  "And so it was this Bailorg who was his guide? Who murdered Navis and his co-conspirators?"

  "Yes. When Bailorg returned, he reported that all was well, and that Navis had entered Shatuum with his escorts. It is recorded in the annals and diaries of the King's Court that he made such reports before those in the Court who were friends to Navis and his fellow Kingsmen. It was at that time that Bailorg began securing liens against lands in Vanara, particularly in the regions under threat of attack from the Dragonkind. Before he departed with Navis, so it goes, Bailorg was nearly destitute. Upon his return, he was richly rewarded by your father for his service to your brother. In the years that followed, Bailorg came under scrutiny many times for a variety of suspicious acts. He was suspected in the murder of another Kingsman. And he was recently implicated in the attempted murder by poison of the wife of Lord Arata. She has been outspoken in her support of her husband's efforts to dissolve claims upon Vanaran lands. But in each of these instances, and others, Bailorg was exonerated by those in service to your father. I believe your father and Bailorg are each in the other's clutches, each using the other for their own ends, protected by mutual self-interest. Bailorg blackmails your father even after all these years since your brother's murder. And your father blackmails Bailorg likewise. Neither can denounce the other. I am only surprised that Bailorg has been permitted to live this long, though it is said he goes nowhere without protection. So that is why I asked you here. To help me gather evidence for the courts. So that you may present the claim, and to bring down Bailorg's master, your father!"

  "How can I believe you? That my father was responsible for his own son's murder?" she countered.

  "It was your father who coerced you to Secundur!" Raynor stated. "Think upon it! Remember how, when you returned from Tulith Attis, your father renewed his request that you go to Shatuum? And in your dark depression—for what you saw at Tulith Attis was surely horrible—you gave in to him. You must know that your father used you for his own gain! Surely, during all the years of your isolation you have pondered it over and over. You know your father to be responsible for your captivity by Secundur. And Navis did, too! And do you think Navis could be permitted to bring you back so soon after your departure to Secundur? Before your father's reward for giving you over was fully reaped?"

  "Then why did he not permit Navis to enter Shatuum? Would not his death be assured at the hands of Secundur's legions?"

  "Do you forget his prowess at arms? No warrior of the Elifaen has been so fierce or so mighty since Cupeldain. Was it not Navis who entered the Crevasse of Fire and smote Jatarak the Ogre? Was it not Navis who slaughtered an entire legion of the Dragonkind at the battle of Saerdulin? You were there. You, of all people, know best the skill and cunning with which your brother fought, the ease with which he dispatched his foes. Who could say that he might not win against Secundur and carry you away? That was my hope for him. And your father's fear! If Navis triumphed, the black eagles would be withdrawn, and Lord Banis's rising influence upon the King would vanish. That is how Lord Banis measures the value of power against paltry love!"

  "Then I will go immediately to my father," Esildre declared, standing abruptly. "I shall confront him directly! I will know if he lies to me."

  "No, no! My dear! You would not survive the interview, I am certain. He is too powerful, and must be confronted by fair courts. That is where you must bring your complaint against him."

  "Then it is only through Bailorg that such conjectures can be proven!"

  "Yes, but we must lay the groundwork for our case. Going for Bailorg first will only forewarn Lord Banis. We need allies. Let us go to Lord Arata. He is not sullied by corruption, and he is powerful. Surely, if he believes us, Lord Arata can convince others to join our cause, and evidence may then be gathered and presented to bring your father to justice."

  "No. This is too much!" Esildre blurted out, losing her patience. "I cannot wait for any such insurrection. And before I join it, or believe your words, I must hear from Bailorg's own mouth that my father ordered him to murder Navis! Until then, I must assume someone else holds Bailorg's leash!"

  Raynor shook his head. "To do so, you would have to capture the villain. And he is far away. Likely in Glareth, the old Eastlands, or Tracia. Let us send word to those places asking of his whereabouts. And, as we await the answers, let us patiently build our case in other ways."

  "No. I'll go myself and find him."

  "That would be folly. Word of your presence in Duinnor will soon leak out. You must remain here and protected. Do you think you would survive a fortnight of travel?"

  "I must risk it," Esildre angrily replied. "Do you think I cannot take care of myself? After all these years?"

  "Oh, Esildre! Long have you been away! Much has changed, and there are many who would march blindly to your father's commands. He did not hesitate to kill his own son. Do you think he would hesitate to stop you? Do not make me regret this, as I regret my failure to protect your brother."

  By now Raynor had risen, too, and argued with obvious pain and consternation. As Esildre turned away to depart, she felt a soft nudge against her ankle. Looking down, she and Raynor's rabbit exchanged looks. Her shoulders slumped, and though she did not smile at Beauchamp, her frown vanished. Incongruously, she thought again of those in service to her household. As she watched Beauchamp hop away and stretch out on a cool flagstone, she wondered why they were so protective of her. Was it merely that she provided them with a place to live, with dignified, honest work? Were they only looking to their own interests? Or did they, after all, care about her? It was perhaps Raynor's distressed tone that sparked these thoughts. Or maybe it was Raynor's humble Familiar, devoid of malice, gentle and affectionate. In spite of Raynor's words, Beauchamp's nudge reassured her by giving his own opinion of her heart. It was as if he was telling her that she need not be angry, she need not be combative. But she could still be gentle and assertive, if she only remembered. She did remember. She remembered that once, long ago, before Secundur took her, she was moved to gentleness and pity toward those who were scorned. As it happened, she was herself later scorned, due, in part, to her loss of gentleness and her own contempt for pity. But, just now, that slight touch reminded her. Her anger at Raynor faded and vanished, and her eyes welled with emotion.

  Raynor remained silent, watching her, wondering what moved her to change in posture and countenance so quickly. He knew, of course, that time does not move for the Elifaen as it moves for others. During those moments, he suspected, a long chain of thought slowly pulled her heart this way and swung her emotions that way.

  Still gazing at Beauchamp, Esildre said, "You are a good friend, Raynor. But I am not convinced, and I do not think I shall be. I appreciate all that you have done on my behalf, and your continued affection for the memory of my brot
her. And I thank you for coming here to speak with me. My mind is made up." Now she looked at him earnestly. "Since the bells rang the night I arrived, my heart has stirred with a desire to go east. I cannot say why. It is a land filled with bad memories for me. But I long to look upon the sea once more. And I promised some in that land that I would see them again someday, if they are still there. Perhaps my longing to go is partly to do with those things. And partly, too, with your news. All these things direct me eastward. Please do not be angry. Or disappointed in me. I ask that you help me make my arrangements, in secret if discovery would put me in danger, so that I might travel. I must go. To find Bailorg and confront him in my own way."

  "Folly," Raynor said. "Folly."

  They searched each other's eyes for a long moment, then Raynor nodded.

  "Yet, I anticipated as much. Like your brother, you are headstrong, in your own way."

  Raynor sat back down and exhaled a long sigh through his nose.

  "I shall await your return, as far as events may permit," he said. "Meanwhile, I have already, this morning before I departed the city, made arrangements for you. It happens that two of your great-nephews, the twins, each as inscrutable and silent as the other, are in Duinnor. I have made an effort to tutor them as I once did you, but they hardly respond to my lectures, and are by far the worst students I have ever had. But they are not bad boys, and they are experienced in combat owing to their adventures in the Dragonlands. That is why your nephew sent them here, so they might not so easily rekindle a war there."

  "Kranneg and Tulleg, you mean?"

  "The very same. I approached them with the notion of accompanying you on your journey, should you decide to go. To my amazement, they each constructed an entire sentence to express their enthusiasm. So I'll send them to you in the morning, along with buckmarls, provisions, and your old armor."

  "My armor? I would not have imagined that you still had those things."

  "You said you'd be back for them someday. And I have kept them safe and free of corrosion. Your sword and daggers, too. And also a trunk of clothes and whatnot that you left behind."

  "A friend, indeed! And you knew all along I would insist on going."

  "I'm afraid I hoped for otherwise," Raynor shrugged. "And I still say it is folly."

  Chapter 11

  The Faere Coins

  Day 29

  216 Days Remaining

  Mirabella Ribbon had many secrets to keep, some old, ancient even, and some very new. If she kept any secrets well, she kept none so well as she did those of her son's. She prevented Mr. Ribbon from learning the true nature of Robby's misadventures by diversion rather than deception. By graceful interruptions she steered conversations with her husband toward different, less awkward topics. She thoughtfully listened to Mr. Ribbon's questions about Robby's story in the evenings as they prepared for bed or lay sleepless in the still of the night, never giving any definite opinions of her own or any answers, either. She knew he was close to knowing that much more had happened to Robby than the boy would tell him. At times she was almost certain, by the way her husband looked at her, that he knew she supported Robby's reticence to say more about his adventures. But Mr. Ribbon never pressed her, and he never became angry or impatient. His was the quiet sort of wonder, the "somehow it don't quite fit" kind of quandaries, and the "I must remember to ask Robby about" musings. He believed in giving Robby a wide path to make for himself, and he held his son in great respect.

  "Why, when I was his age," he would say to Mirabella, "I warn't half so responsible. Couldn't care less for chores er mindin' rules er learnin' a trade. Compared to me, Robby's a reg'lar scholar, too. Knows more 'bout books an' letters than most any boy 'round here ever did, I reckon. We're mighty lucky to have him, an' I'm mightily proud of our son. 'Cept, I sometimes wish he was a little more talkative."

  On he would chatter, roaming into something or other about Robby's trip to Haven Hill that seemed odd, or something concerning Robby and Sheila and what was going on between them, "'Sides the obvious, o'course."

  Mirabella let him muse aloud, biding the time when he would know all.

  "In good time," was all she might say. "In good time, all will show forth that needs to." And she hoped it was true.

  • • •

  The weeks went by, and they were busy ones. Mr. Ribbon was ever going here and there about town, at the Common House, or wherever his business as the interim mayor took him, while Robby remained at the store, and Mirabella, often with Sheila, went around Passdale helping friends and neighbors recover from the damage of the storm. Mirabella also found time to advise Robby privately on what he should do. Which was, in short, to do nothing out of the ordinary, and to this Robby applied himself with all-too-familiar experience. In exchange, she told him a little more about her family, how they had left their home in the west and moved to the Eastlands to live in Tallinvale, their old family estate. How it was tradition for the eldest son of each family to tie himself to Duinnor to become a Kingsman, a soldier of the King. And that she had two brothers who had done so, just as her father had before them. Her oldest brother, Dalvenpar, had been killed in battle away in the west. Her next older brother, Aram, also died in the same manner. Ullin Saheed was his son. When he was of age, Ullin went to Duinnor to become a Kingsman, too, like his father, his uncle, and his grandfather before him.

  "Why do Tallin men serve the King of Duinnor?" Robby asked one day at noon meal.

  "That is an old tradition," she answered. "All lands belong to the King, you see. Any who defy Duinnor soon suffer the consequences, one way or another. One way for Duinnor to see to it that far-flung houses remain loyal is to demand that every eldest male heir of the Named Houses serve the King."

  "Like hostages?"

  "Not quite," she said. "But it can amount to as much if loyalties are questioned."

  Robby shook his head, saying, "Doesn't seem right, somehow."

  "Right or wrong, that is how it is."

  "Why isn't it like that here?"

  "For one, we are far away from Duinnor. For another, the great houses of the East still swear fealty to Duinnor and keep with the tradition. Every man, if summoned, must serve the King, of course, in one of his many armies, or in some other capacity. But the eldest of the Named Houses are required to serve as Kingsmen. The House of Ribbon is not a Named House, so don't worry about being called away."

  "And Bosk is not a Named House, either?"

  "No, it is not, though an Honored House and a worthy one. Its pennant hangs in the Great Hall of Duinnor, as do all pennants of Named and Honored Houses."

  "The Great Hall? Is that part of the King's Palace?"

  "Oh, no. The King's Palace is elsewhere in Duinnor City. The Great Hall is but one of the buildings of government, wherein is the Hall of Banners. Other places with their own buildings include the Court of Houses, the Hall of Warriors, the Hall of Ordinaries, and the Court of Lords."

  "Duinnor must be a big place."

  "The city alone is very large, indeed. The Realm is actually one of the smallest of the Seven."

  "It must be something to see."

  "It is, truly. But it is not the most beautiful city, in my thinking. There are many beautiful cities; Glareth by the Sea is one nearest to us. But the one I will always think of as the most beautiful is Linlally, called the City in the Sky, because it is nestled against the high mountains of Vanara. The White Palace of Linlally sits above the city, floating upon a mountain lake. It cannot be seen from the city below, so high it is. But, from a distance, one can see the great mountain Cassos in the west, looming over Linlally. Down its side flows cold streams which fill the lake where the White Palace is. And, out from the lake flow five splendid waterfalls, called the Falls of Tiandari, which cascade downward to another lake far below. From that lake flows the River Iridelin, stepping back and forth over falls and shoals through the city itself. It is, in my thinking very beautiful, indeed."

  Mirabella paused, tilting h
er head as memories of Linlally flowed through her mind. Smiling, she said, "Sometimes, when Sir Sun plays his light just right upon the mists of Tiandari, and when seen from a far distance, the White Palace appears to float atop arches of rainbows."

  • • •

  Over these weeks, bit by bit, Robby gained knowledge of his mother's family, and of the world, too. When they spoke, they spoke frankly, but never when Mr. Ribbon was nearby, for mother and son kept their pact, and it had not yet become necessary to let on anything to the father that he had not already pieced together for himself. Robby also found that when his mother spoke to him, she did so with a kind of melancholy joy, and he gathered that she did not speak of these things to anyone else, even her husband, and he wondered why.

  "There are names for such as us, though they are seldom used," she said to him one late afternoon when the two were putting away bolts of cloth. Sheila was upstairs attempting not to burn a soup, and Mr. Ribbon was off at the Common House. "Those born of Elifaen mother will be Elifaen, too, and are called Sylphaen. The Faere bloodline is passed from mother to child, you see. All others, such as Ullin, whose mother is not Elifaen, are called Sylphmar. That is the way of it. These are words from the Ancient Tongue, and mean, roughly 'part Faere,' or 'part Fallen,' sylph Elifaen, or 'part Mortal from the Sea,' sylph Mar. Here in the east, they are sometimes used as terms of disrespect or insult. But in the west they are used less harshly and may even be used in praise. You are Sylphaen. Ullin is Sylphmar. Someday, you will become Elifaen. Ullin will not."