Heart of Fire (31 page)

She nodded, mulling it over. “I’ll
give ya my answer in the morning.” She started behind a curtain
doorway, then paused and pointed to a bed tucked into an alcove in
the wall. “That’s yers for the night. Snore all ya want. My hearing
ain’t that good.”

He devoured the last of the meager
fare and collapsed fully dressed onto Brynden’s bed, asleep more
quickly than he could whip his sword from its sheath.

The smell of breakfast and his
growling stomach pulled him from his dreams of Jessalyne. Someone
had closed the curtain across the alcove. He opened it and squinted
at the bright daylight. Why couldn’t it be overcast
more?

Magda stood at the fire, stirring a
pot of porridge. “Good morning, master elf. Sleep well?”

“I don’t remember.” He stretched and
threw his legs over the side of the narrow bed. “Have you decided
about the boy?”

“Don’t mince words, do ya?” She
ladled porridge into bowls. “I’ve thought it over and if Brynden
agrees to it, it’s all right by me.”

He sat at the small table and dug
into the hot porridge. “Where is he?”

“Tending your horse. He’ll be in
shortly. You’ll keep him from danger, won’t ya? He’s all I have
since my son passed.”

“You have my word he won’t be in
harm’s way.”

The cottage door opened. “Good
morning, master elf. Grams, there were only two eggs.” Brynden set
them on the counter and sat next to Ertemis. “Dragon’s fed and
watered. He ate three portions of oats.”

“That horse bears the soul of a fat
man.” Ertemis emptied his bowl. “Brynden, I want to hire you as my
squire. Temporarily.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He
glanced at Magda and quickly hid his excitement. “I can’t. I have
duties here. I’m sorry.”

Magda patted Brynden’s shoulder.
“It’s all right. Yer chores’ll wait.”

“Thanks, Gram.” He smiled. “When do
we leave?”

Ertemis leaned back. “After you
bathe.”

Brynden frowned. “Truly?”

“Aye! Being next to you is like
standing downwind of a sty. Mistress Magda, has the boy any other
clothes?”

“We ain’t city folk. We wear what we
got.” She furrowed her brow. “Wait.” She went behind the curtain,
then reemerged with clothing draped over her arm.

“These were Brynden’s father’s. I
imagine they should fit him now.” On the bed where Ertemis had
slept she laid a slightly worn cloak of navy wool and a simple
cotton shirt and trousers in pale grey. “Will those do?”

Ertemis nodded. “Very well. Very
well indeed.”

With Brynden mounted on Dragon
beside him, Ertemis entered Shaldar City for the second time. Even
with Brynden playing decoy, Ertemis took great care to keep himself
covered with his cloak and used his magic to make himself
insignificant to any eyes that found his face.

He glanced up. The boy had certainly
taken to his role as knight-in-training. Ertemis’s sword hung at
his side. Brynden had yet to take his hand from the
hilt.

Holding tight to Dragon’s reins,
Ertemis opened his mind, listening for the familiar sounds of a
tavern. Following them, he led them away from the bustle of the
main streets and into a less crowded quarter.

“Ertemis.” Brynden whispered out of
the corner of his mouth.

“Aye?”

“This doesn’t seem to be the best
part of town.”

“Exactly what we want.”

“It is?”

“Aye. I want to be noticed as little
as possible. Blending in is out of the question, but in the lesser
parts of town, people have their own worries and aren’t as inclined
to notice strangers.”

Brynden nodded and stayed
quiet.

They found a tavern inn and Ertemis
felt at home immediately. The Boot and Buckle was just the sort of
place a dark elf could disappear in. He made arrangements for a
room with two beds and stable space for Dragon.

Ertemis took his pack and Brynden’s
while the boy followed the innkeeper’s directions to the stable
with Dragon in tow.

The room was sufficient. Two
pallets, a washstand and a fireplace were all any man truly needed.
He pulled the shabby curtains back and studied the lay of the land
visible beyond the window. The room was on the third floor,
overlooking a back alley. The window opened easily. He would be
able to come and go without notice.

Brynden came up a few moments later,
his excitement at everything going on barely contained. “Dragon’s
settled in. What now?”

* * *

Jessalyne barely heard a word of
Sryka’s lesson. She tried but there was little in the casting of
runes for better crop growth that could pull her thoughts from
Ertemis.

Where was he? A brief image of him,
wrapped in the arms of some tavern doxy flashed in her head. She
shoved it away. Even if it were the truth, she didn’t want to see
it.

“Are you listening to me?” Sryka
rapped the table sharply with her staff.

“Yes, mistress. Forgive me, I didn’t
sleep well last night.”

“Did that pixie keep you up?” Sryka
glared at Fynna, busy in the corner polishing the sorceress’s
crystals.

“No. It had nothing to do with
Fynna.” Jessalyne knew the tone of her voice was less than
respectful but she didn’t care.

“Very well. You are dismissed to
visit the king.”

Without another word, Jessalyne got
up, happy to go but wishing Fynna could come with her.

“Before you go, take the king’s
tonic to him. His steward must be ill, he hasn’t been by to pick it
up yet.” Sryka pulled the jug from a pouch deep inside her robes,
her back to Fynna.

“Yes, mistress.” Jessalyne took the
small, stoppered jug from Sryka’s hands and turned to leave. At
least her visit with the king would be a pleasant distraction.
Lately she had been reading to him from a book of poems. She shot
Fynna a parting glance and took her leave.

On her walk through the castle, she
again found herself thinking of Ertemis. If he didn’t come back,
maybe there was a way she could send him a message. Perhaps Valduuk
could help her.

She didn’t see Sir Laythan until it
was too late. He swerved to miss her, she went the same way, and
they collided. Sir Laythan stumbled but stayed upright. Jessalyne
fell backwards, knocking the stopper loose from the jug. The vile
liquid splashed over her, staining her gown with the liver-colored
tonic.

“Ugh!” She tilted her face away from
the stench rising off her dress.

“My dear, are you all right?” Sir
Laythan offered his hand even as he wrinkled his nose.

“I’m fine, but my dress may never be
the same.” She took his assistance and stood. The stain spread
further.

“I was just on my way to fetch that
nasty draft myself. Jeremy’s mother had her third child last night
and I granted him the day off to help her.”

“Sryka dismissed me early and asked
me to bring it.” She suppressed a gag at the sickening smell. “I
must change, I cannot bear this stench any longer. I’ll return
shortly.”

She ran back to her room, ignoring
the wrinkled noses and puckered faces of the people she passed.
Once inside, she stripped off the gown and left it in a heap,
making sure none of the stain touched anything else in the room. At
least it was one of the prince’s gowns. She could care less if it
was ruined.

She selected another dress of
lavender brocade trimmed in deep red and hurriedly threw it on,
cinching the waist and buttoning the bodice. Gagging, she opened
the window wide. Already the smell of Sryka’s tonic doused the
room.

She tucked a lavender sachet into
her waist sash and crushed it to release the fragrance of the small
dried flowers. She closed the door and made her way back to the
king’s chambers. The guards on duty outside his doors gave her
entrance without question.

Sir Laythan was shelving a selection
of books as she walked in. “Greetings again. I must say, you smell
much better.”

“Wouldn’t take much after being
drenched with that awful stuff, would it?”

“It would not.”

“I think the king might be happy to
have a day free of Sryka’s elixir.”

“Actually, there was some left from
yesterday. I already gave it to him.”

“Oh.” Jessalyne wished his majesty
never need taste the vile stuff again.

“He’s not well today. I thought it
might help. He’s lost in remembrances of the past, but I’m sure
he’ll listen if you read to him. Your voice seems to soothe
him.”

She rested her hand on Sir Laythan’s
arm, the pain in his eyes evidence of his love for his king.
“You’re a kind man. I cannot imagine anyone serving the king
better.”

“Thank you.” He smiled and slid the
last book into place. “I’m brewing a pot of tea. I’ll bring it in
to you.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She
squeezed his arm before entering the king’s bedroom.

Laythan had already placed a chair
next to the bed and pulled the bed curtains back. The king was
propped up with pillows but he made no sign to indicate he noticed
her enter. He stared blankly out the windows, mumbling quietly to
himself.

Laythan came in with the pot of tea
and a mug on a tray. He set it on the table near the bed, glanced
at the king and shook his head sadly before leaving the
room.

Jessalyne poured tea into the mug
and sipped at it, but the king kept staring out the window. Not
knowing what else to do, she starting reading. At the sound of her
voice, the king’s mumbling ceased and a slight smile softened his
face. He whispered something she couldn’t hear.

She paused to take another sip of
tea. When she looked up, the king’s eyes were fixed on
her.

“Good afternoon, your highness. How
are you feeling today?”

His dark eyes glimmered with tears,
and he whispered the same word again.

Unable to hear, she nodded and
smiled.

With trembling lips, he said it
again more clearly.

She hadn’t heard him correctly. That
had to be it. She set the book down and moved to his bedside,
sitting on the edge.

“Again, your highness.
Please.”

He uttered the word once more.
Disbelief filled her. It couldn’t be. How could he know that name?
She took his hand in hers. He smiled again and words spilled out of
him.

“Shaylana...I knew you would come
back.” He gripped her hand with surprising strength. “I’ve missed
you so much. Please tell me you’ve brought our child. I think of
you everyday, my love.”

“Shaylana? You think…I’m Shaylana?”
Realization swept through her with a shudder. It was too impossible
to believe. She needed more confirmation.

With the king still begging to see
his child, she cried out for Sir Laythan.

He burst through the door. “What’s
wrong? Should I call the king’s physicians?”

“Were you in the king’s employ when
he attempted to form the alliance with the elves?”

Taken back, Laythan hesitated. “Yes.
Why do you ask?”

“Was there an elfess in the council
by the name of Shaylana? An elfess the king was especially fond
of?”

“How do you know this?” Laythan’s
eyes narrowed.” What sorcery have you worked on him?”

“He got a child on her, didn’t he?
And when she fled, the alliance fell apart, spoiling the blood
between both kingdoms.”

Laythan tore her hands away from the
king. “How do you know this? I demand you tell me or I will call
the guards and have you put out of the city.”

“I mean his highness no harm, I
swear it. He called me by her name. Shaylana. You see the pendant
around my neck?”

He nodded.

“Her son gave it to me. Her only
son. The king’s son.”

“It cannot be,” he whispered,
staring at the necklace then the king. He slumped into a chair.
“Lady Shaylana sent a missive after she disappeared telling the
king the halfling child had been dealt with according to custom. He
cursed the elves for their intolerance.”

“His son is very much
alive.”

“Do you know what this means?” He
straightened. “This child is King Maelthorn’s firstborn son. Prince
Erebus is no longer in line for the throne. There is hope yet for
the kingdom. What kind of man is the king’s son? He is half-elf, of
course...”

Laythan paused as his own words sunk
in. “A dark elf on the throne of Shaldar or Prince Erebus? I
daresay one could be worse than the other.”

“Ertemis is a good man, nothing like
what people think. He shielded me here, kept me safe and sheltered.
He knows nothing of his father. Nothing.”

“She never told him, just as she
told us the child was killed.”

“She conscripted him to the Legions
when he was a boy.”

Laythan face blanched. “The Legions?
I’ve heard tales of a creature—”