Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold (6 page)

Amadis slipped behind the king and sat beside Llyr. “There is only one track; the eagles are never wrong.”

“Melyntha?” The king’s frown deepened. “Why there?” He looked at Amadis and raised an eyebrow. “The eagles are certain of this?”

Amadis nodded. “They’re the best spies in the world. They see where all paths lead.”

“Hmm.” The king looked at his hands resting on the table. He stared at them, twirling his thumbs. “Why?” he murmured.

A low rumble came from Greyfleet’s throat. It was as if the wolf understood the king’s thoughts. The king looked at the four wolves and the children, still waiting by the door. “Come,” he said. “Sit with us and tell us what you know.”

Petrello, his brother, and the two ragged children moved to the table. As they sat all in a row at the far end, the king gave a light bark and, with appreciative grunts, the wolves ran to the fire and sat before the flames.

Gunfrid and Zeba looked anxiously at Petrello. He was about to reassure them when, all at once, the doors crashed open and Borlath strode into the hall. Before anyone could speak, the furious prince uttered a long and strangled, “A-a-a-a-agh!”

The king stood up. “Borlath!” His deep voice echoed around the hall. “You —”

“Why was I not informed?” yelled Borlath, his thick brows drawn together in an angry line. “Who’s the oldest prince? Who’s the heir?” He thumped his chest. “I AM! Yet no one thought to tell me of this meeting. And here sits the one responsible for our catastrophe.” He pointed a flame-tipped finger at Amadis.

“Silence!” roared the king.

The table was some distance from the door but Petrello could feel the heat of Borlath’s wrathful fingers on his cheeks.

The king lifted a warning hand. Once, he would have used his power to subdue his oldest son, but long ago he had promised the queen never to use magic on their children.

Borlath’s angry gaze swept across the room and found the children sitting at the far end of the table. Now he was truly incensed. “You let CHILDREN come to your meetings and not ME!” he screeched.

“Enough!” boomed the king.

At the very same moment, a lofty bookcase at the end of the room crashed to the floor, sending heavy, precious books sliding over the flagstones. Cream-colored vellum pages were horribly creased, and a gold-embossed cover was bent at one corner.

Petrello knew who had done it, even before he saw her. His sister Lilith poked her long face around the door, and there was Olga, in her shadow. Olga, who, with her warped mind, could move almost anything she chose.

The time had come for King Timoken to control his children with something more than angry words, but could he break a promise made to the queen?

T
he king had no need to break his promise. While he struggled with his conscience, wondering whether to strike his disobedient children with hail or fire, the queen had whirled up from her seat.

“Olga!” cried the queen. “Come here this minute.”

Olga was about to slink away after her sister. Lilith had already gone. But Olga found it difficult to ignore her mother’s imperious tone. She moved forward sulkily, her head down.

“Now, put right what you have done!” her mother commanded.

“Can’t,” mumbled Olga.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If you can push a heavy bookcase over with that clever head of yours, then you can pull it back again — and replace the books while you’re about it.”

Olga plodded over to the bookcase and stood looking down at it.

“Get on with it, Olga,” said the king. “We are busy here.”

Borlath stood in the doorway, watching his sister with interest.

“As for you,” said the queen, looking into her oldest son’s surly face. “Must the king postpone his urgent meeting while you dally in the forest?”

Anger flashed in Borlath’s small black eyes, but he looked away from his mother’s withering glance. “I wasn’t dallying.”

“You are a man of nineteen years,” said the queen, “yet you behave like a truculent child.”

Borlath ground his teeth, half closed his eyes, and clenched his fists. The queen walked away from him and took her seat.

“Sit down, Borlath,” said the king. “And take part in our discussion, or listen, if you have nothing to say. Amadis was wrongfully accused. He has brought news of the bellman.”

“News?” Borlath moved toward the table, but instead of sitting with the older members of the company, he strode to the far end where the children had gathered. Gunfrid and Zeba watched, their eyes wide with apprehension, as the large knight approached. Red garnets winked on his golden sword hilt, blue lapis lazuli on the handles of the two daggers pushed into his heavy, gold-studded belt. He had been humiliated before them and didn’t like their stares. As he passed behind the two waifs, he lunged between them and whispered, “You’d better not get in my way, maggots!”

Petrello and Tolly glared at their brother, but didn’t dare to speak. The king and queen were listening to Llyr and failed to notice Borlath’s menacing lunge, but Amadis saw it, and so did Wyngate.

The waifs shrank down a little, but their faces looked grimly defiant. They were where they wanted to be and a churlish prince wasn’t going to drive them away.

All this time, Olga had been trying to get the bookcase upright. She would raise it a little way, but then it would come crashing down to the floor again. Petrello reckoned she was doing it on purpose. Either that or she had exhausted her powers when she brought the great thing down. The continual bangs were so distracting it was difficult for anyone to finish a sentence. At last, the king became so angry he shouted, “Do it, Olga. Now. Or your punishment will be worse than you can imagine.”

Olga looked over her shoulder at the king. She remained like that as the top of the bookcase lifted slightly from the floor. And then, with several groans, creaks, and thumps, it eased itself upright and moved into its former position. The tumbled books flew back onto the shelves and, with a triumphant smirk, Olga flounced from the room.

The king and queen hardly noticed. They were listening intently to Llyr.

“How could this have happened?” the king was heard to say.

“I wish I knew.” Llyr wore a grimace of distress.

“I must see for myself.” The king stood and marched to the door. “You still have the bag, you say?”

“Empty, Sire!” Llyr ran after the king as he pulled open the door and whirled through it. Wyngate was close on their heels. Amadis and Borlath strode after them, and the children were left with only the queen, who looked as though a thunderbolt had landed right in front of her.

“Mother, what’s happened?” cried Petrello.

Tolly ran and looked into her shocked face. “Tell us.”

“The crystal,” she murmured. “It’s gone.”

“But I saw the crystals, all of them, on Llyr’s table, only this morning,” said Petrello.

“The others are there.” The queen shook her head. “But the Seeing Crystal is gone.”

Petrello realized what she was saying. The wizards had a small, flat crystal, the size of a man’s hand. They kept it hidden, but he had seen it once among Llyr’s magical effects. When the wizard held it up to the window, sunlight had blazed through it, bathing the walls of the aerie with a thousand dancing colors. And then, at a word from Llyr, the light and the colors had formed an image on the wall. Petrello saw animals drinking from a forest pond, and then a market had appeared, where people hurried back and forth with bags and baskets. This picture was replaced by another: soldiers drilling in a castle courtyard.

“
That
crystal,” said Petrello.

“The Seeing Crystal.” The queen rubbed her forehead with long, pale fingers.

Gunfrid and Zeba had crept closer. Aware that something had gone badly wrong, Gunfrid asked, “What’s happened? Ain’t we safe no more?”

The queen smiled at him as she stood up. “Of course you’re safe. Petrello will tell you — I must go to the aerie. The wizards might be mistaken, they could have overlooked …” She moved swiftly and carried the rest of her words through the door where they were lost in the sounds of a growing commotion.

Gunfrid looked at Petrello. “What is a Seeing Crystal? Tell us.”

Petrello hesitated. He had always considered the crystal to be a precious secret, and yet everyone in the castle knew of it and was comforted by the safety it provided. What harm could it do, to let the orphans know about it?

“It’s a crystal that shows the wizards what is happening outside the castle. They can see an enemy approach, soldiers on the move, things that might harm us.”

“They can see into the deep forest,” Tolly added, “and inside castles with walls thicker than this.” He spread his arms as wide as they would go. “And into the thunderclouds, and under the ground.”

Gunfrid’s mouth dropped open and Zeba’s gray eyes looked ready to pop out of her head.

“It’s mostly soldiers and spies that the wizards are watching for,” said Petrello. “So they can go out and cast their spells around the castle to make it disappear. But before they do that, they have to tell the bellman to warn us all.”

“Because the spells throw us into the air,” Tolly explained.

“We float,” Petrello clarified.

“I’d like that,” said Zeba.

“Me too,” said Gunfrid, “unless I banged me head on the ceiling.”

“Hence the warning bell,” Petrello stated.

“But not today,” said a voice, and Guanhamara swung through the door. Behind her came her friend Elin, a tall girl with russet curls and large blue eyes.

“Friar Gereint’s been asking for you,” Guanhamara told her brothers. “And who are these strangers?”

Zeba went up to Guanhamara and touched her dress, pinching the soft blue material between mud-stained fingers. “What mighty fine clothes,” marveled the girl.

Guanhamara beamed at her. “I’ll find you some clothes just like mine,” she said, taking the girl’s hands.

“Where have you come from, you poor thing?” asked Elin.

“Castle Melyntha, ma’am,” murmured Zeba.

“Not ma’am,” said Elin. “Just Elin.”

Petrello was eager to follow the queen. Leaving the children with his brother and sister, he ran to the aerie. But the king was already gone.

The queen was sitting with her arm around Eri. The old man held his head in his hands while he ground his teeth and uttered obscure and ancient oaths.

Petrello’s presence was ignored.

Enid, the dragon, waddled around the room, emitting hot snorts of distress and constantly getting in Llyr’s way as he ran around, turning over caskets, lifting rugs, and feeling in the pockets of the different robes that hung on the aerie walls.

Wyngate was methodically sifting through the crystals on the table. “It might be here,” he said. “You could have —”

“No,” cried Llyr, motionless at last. “The Seeing Crystal is always kept in this.” He held up a red velvet bag embroidered with a golden eye. “I replaced it before we left to begin the Vanishing. Someone has taken it. Let’s not deceive ourselves any longer.”

Petrello couldn’t help himself. He had to ask, albeit apologetically, “How do you know when to use the crystal, Llyr? I mean, it’s a silent thing, and you can’t always be looking at it.”

Eri raised his head. “It is
not
a silent thing, boy. It calls us when danger is close.”

“Oh!” Petrello’s mouth fell open. “I see.” He felt foolish.

“Your father will be in the cameldrome,” said the queen gently, “if you’re looking for him.”

“I am,” said Petrello.

As he hastened down the steps, he murmured to himself, “The Seeing Crystal is not silent.” He should have guessed. How else would the wizards have known when to use it?

Petrello quickly made his way through the crowded courtyard. There were now five courtyards within the castle walls. The first was always bustling with activity for it was where the most necessary functions of the court had been established. Here were the stables, the dining halls, meeting places, and the Hall of Corrections.

In the second courtyard, cooks, carpenters, and smiths worked in the open air or in covered areas beside the walls. In the third, the king’s sister, Zobayda, had re-created a Spanish garden with fountains, palms, and climbing roses. A gentle warmth permeated this quiet place constantly, a climate created by the king especially for his sister. Zobayda was almost always there, reclining on velvet cushions and reading, or sewing clothes for her nephews and nieces.

The fourth had been filled with sand. It was here that the king kept Gabar, the camel that had accompanied him all the way from the secret kingdom. King Timoken still liked to share his problems with Gabar. The camel was his oldest friend. The fifth courtyard lay empty; it had only been in existence for a year.

Today, the third courtyard appeared to be deserted. Zobayda was still in her room, recovering from the shaking she had endured during the unexpected Vanishing.

Petrello could see his aunt sitting in her window, watching the fountain below her. Or was she? Petrello waved, but Zobayda didn’t respond. She was staring intently at something on the other side of the fountain.

Droplets of sunlit water tickled Petrello’s face as he walked closer to the raised pool surrounding the fountain. A stone mermaid rose from the center and water splashed from the giant conch shell that she held aloft.

As Petrello walked around the fountain, he felt a hot breeze on his ankles. He looked over his shoulder and saw the dragon, Enid, lolloping toward him. She was overweight and slow on the ground, but she could still fly, and her breath had lost none of its fire.

“Come on, then, Enid,” said Petrello. “I know you want to see Gabar.” He rounded the fountain and gasped.

Olga and Lilith were sitting on a bench in front of the fountain. Lilith wore a grin of delight. Olga was rocking with silent laughter. Before them stood Vyborn. At least, it was the top half of Vyborn. From the waist down he was covered in short, grayish bristles. His legs had shrunk, his knees had vanished, his feet were hooves.

Vyborn turned a grimly triumphant face to Petrello. “I’m not nobody anymore,” he snorted.

“N-no,” Petrello stammered.

“He’s found his vocation!” Lilith said. “Don’t you agree, brother?”

“V-vocation?” said Petrello.

“His talent,” said Lilith. “The gift that was due to him, to all the king’s children.”

“Perhaps not all.” Olga hid her mouth with her hand, but her words were deliberately clear, and she directed a scornful glance at Petrello.

He hardly noticed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Vyborn, though he desperately wanted to. His brother’s torso was slowly changing: Rough bristles covered his chest and arms, his hands turned black and hardened into hooves. When Vyborn’s face disappeared behind a mask of coarse hair, Petrello backed away.

A snout grew in the center of Vyborn’s new face, and two tusks appeared on either side of it. Enid grumbled in her throat. Her smoky breath was filled with sparks.

In a trembling voice, Petrello asked, “How did this happen?” He nodded at his brother. “Did you do it, Lilith?”

Lilith smiled with satisfaction. “There’s a lot that I can do, but not this. Poor little Vyborn, he wanted so much to be special, to have friends….”

“So we said, ‘Then try, Vyborn,’” Olga piped up. “‘Maybe you could be different. Think of something.’”

“He won’t get friends looking like that,” said Petrello.

The new Vyborn could understand him, it seemed, for the wild boar lowered its head and, with a ghastly grunt, dashed at Petrello.

He leaped back, but not before Enid had aimed long jets of fire at the boar. With a shriek of pain, the boar froze in its tracks and Vyborn’s face emerged from the bristles, shouting, “Next time I’ll be a serpent and then you won’t get me.”

Petrello turned and, with Enid grunting in his wake, ran out of the courtyard and through the great arch that had once been the main entrance into the castle. Since the spirit ancestors had continued to build, the tall, carved doors were now to be found permanently open and in the very center of the castle.