The Mask Wearer (4 page)

Two weeks into their journey north, the Daragons met a knight on the road. He sported a large sword, his shield was adorned with a blazing sun, and his armor sparkled as bright as a mirror.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Identify yourselves, or you’ll pay for your silence.”

Urban Daragon cordially introduced himself and explained that he and his family were headed north to Berrion. He added that he and his wife were craftspeople who had decided to travel again after spending a good number of years in the kingdom of Omain, where their excellent workmanship had been rewarded many times by the ruler. It was not a common sight to see craftspeople riding such beautiful horses, but the knight nodded as if satisfied with the explanation. Of course, Urban did not confess the real reasons that were taking them to Berrion.

“Is it true that the lord of Omain is as stupid as an ass?” the knight inquired, laughing.

“It’s an insult to donkeys to compare them to Lord Edonf,” Amos answered. “At least donkeys are hardworking beasts. It would take only one knight such as yourself to seize all the land in Omain. The entire army there is just like Lord Edonf—cowardly and lazy.”

“Your son has a sharp tongue, but he seems to recognize the power of the sword when it crosses his path,” the knight said, obviously flattered by the compliment. “My fellow knights and I are on the lookout for sorcerers hiding by the roadside in this forest. We know they’re in there, but they surely bear no resemblance to you. You may continue on your way, good travelers.” The knight nodded. Then he added, “Be informed that you’re entering the kingdom of the Knights of Light. Our capital, Bratel-la-Grande, is only a few miles away. Tell the sentinel at the city gates that Barthelemy gave you permission to enter. Don’t waste time getting to the capital. When night falls, strange things happen outside our walls. May the light shine on you! Farewell, good people.”

Along the way to Bratel-la-Grande, Amos and his parents passed through two small villages, where a heavy and threatening silence hovered in the air. In the streets, around the houses, everywhere, all they saw were stone statues—men, women, and children frozen in fright. Amos climbed off his horse and touched a man’s face. It was smooth and hard, cold and lifeless. He was obviously the blacksmith. His arm was raised in midair, a hammer in his hand, and he seemed ready to strike something in front of him. His beard, hair, and clothes had been turned to stone. Several other people were similarly petrified in mid-motion; the rest were lying lifeless on the ground. Even dogs poised to attack were frozen.

Something or someone had come to these villages and cast a spell over every inhabitant. Terror was clearly visible on the faces of all these human statues. Pigs, chickens, mules, and cats had also been turned to stone.

Unexpectedly, a big gray tomcat, obviously very old, came out of a woodpile and moved slowly toward the travelers. He seemed to be sniffing the scent of the newcomers. Amos approached the animal. He took it in his arms and noticed right away that the cat was blind. Why hadn’t this cat fallen under the spell? Amos wondered. The explanation seemed obvious: the cat’s blindness had saved it, which meant that
looking
at the enemy had turned the people and animals to stone.

In fact, after taking a closer look, Amos realized that there wasn’t simply one enemy; there were several. The ground was covered with many strange footprints: triangular footprints, ending with three long toes, were clearly visible all around. On closer inspection, Amos noticed that a membrane linked the toes together. These creatures likely stood on two legs, and were web-footed like ducks.

Urban entreated his son to mount his horse again. This place made him uneasy and the sun was about to set. Frilla held on to the blind cat that Amos had placed in her arms, and the family left this ill-fated place to go to the kingdom’s capital.

Bratel-la-Grande was an impressive city. Built in the center of an agricultural plain, it was surrounded by high gray stone walls that made it impregnable to any army. All around the farmed lands was a huge forest. From the top of the lookout towers, the sentinels could easily detect an enemy a mile away. An imposing iron grate protected the huge city gates.

Five sentries, wearing shining armor and holding shields decorated with a radiant sun, stopped the travelers. Urban
gave his name and mentioned Barthelemy, as the knight had advised him to do. The sentries seemed satisfied.

“The gates remain open during the daytime, so as a security measure we open the iron grate only twice a day, at sunrise and sunset,” one of the sentries said. “The peasants who work the land nearby will return home soon, before the sun sets in an hour. You’ll be able to enter into town with them. In the meantime, take a break. We have food and drink. Help yourselves—the food is on the large rock over here. Welcome to Bratel-la Grande, travelers! May the light shine on you!”

Grateful, the Daragon family thanked the sentry and went to the rock. Amos helped himself to an apple and some chestnuts and sat near the iron grate to look inside the town. There was a lot of activity, with citizens coming and going and knights patrolling the streets. It almost seemed as if the residents were getting ready for battle. In the town square, not far from the gates that the Daragons were soon to enter, ashes of what had been a large fire were still smoking. Amos asked one of the sentries why such a big fire had been lit in daylight.

“We burned a witch this morning,” the sentry said. “You must have seen what happened in the villages you crossed. Our ruler, Yaune the Purifier, thinks we’re dealing with the evil spell of a sorcerer. Our men are searching the forest to catch the culprit. All those who practice some kind of witchcraft are placed on the pyre and burned alive. Just this week, seven people have died in this manner, including a few humanimals.”

Amos asked what a humanimal was. He had never heard the word.

“They’re humans who are able to transform themselves into animals,” the sentry explained. “When I was very young, people talked a lot about humanimals. Now it’s more a legend than a reality.” He shrugged. “I never believed those stories, and I doubt that the man and woman who died this morning had such an ability. Our ruler must feel very helpless. No one knows what is really happening in the kingdom. Every night, we hear awful noises coming from the forest. The residents don’t sleep much. Everyone lives in fear when night comes. I don’t know what to think of all this myself.” He shook his head. “Well, it’s time now to open the iron grate. Good-bye, young man. May the light shine on you!”

“May the light shine on you as well!” Amos answered.

The peasants entered Bratel-la-Grande, followed by the Daragon family. Urban, Frilla, and Amos immediately searched for a place to spend the night. They found an inn called the Goat’s Head. It was a dark, disquieting place. The walls were gray and dirty. There were a few tables, a long bar, and several customers talking to each other. The atmosphere seemed sinister to the Daragons when they walked in. They knew full well that they were being stared at from head to toe.

A pleasant smell of warm soup wafted from the kitchen, and Amos was nearly drooling when they sat down at a table. The chatter started again and no one paid them any more attention. After a few minutes, Urban called the innkeeper over. The man did not move from behind the bar.

“There’s a wonderful smell coming from your kitchen!” Frilla said, trying to get his attention. “We’d like to eat and sleep here tonight.”

The man still did not budge. He simply went on talking with the other customers, not bothering to glance at the Daragons. When the family finally decided to leave, the innkeeper winked to his regular customers.

“One moment,” he shouted. “You must pay before you head out!”

“We did not eat, we did not drink, sir,” Urban answered. “So why should we have to pay?”

“Be informed that we don’t wait on strangers here,” the innkeeper said, beaming with satisfaction. “Yet you’ve enjoyed the aroma of my cooking, for which you must pay. Did you imagine that you could indulge your hunger and not give me a few coins?”

The other customers burst into laughter. Obviously they were used to hearing the innkeeper extort money from unsuspecting travelers.

“You must pay or go to jail!” the innkeeper went on.

Urban refused to open his purse. Three men got up, clubs in their hands, and went to block the exit.

“Go and bring back a knight,” the innkeeper told one of his friends. “We have a problem here.”

A few minutes later, the friend returned with a knight. It was Barthelemy.

“What is going on this time?” asked the weary knight as he walked in.

“These thieves want to leave without paying,” said the innkeeper. “They inhaled the fragrance of my soup and refuse to pay for it. This is my inn and I can sell whatever I please, even a smell, isn’t that so?”

Barthelemy recognized the Daragon family.

“You came to the wrong place, my friends,” he told them. “This inn is probably the worst one in all of Bratel-la-Grande. According to our laws, this man is right; all travelers who stop at the Goat’s Head are swindled in the same way. He uses our laws to his advantage. He’s a crook and there is nothing I can do about it. I must make sure that this man is paid for the kitchen smells you enjoyed. I must also tell you that in case of a dispute, the knights will judge the case. I counsel you to give him something and leave. There is nothing I can do for you.”

“Very well,” Amos said with a sigh. “We will pay the innkeeper.”

The whole assembly erupted in laughter again. The trick always worked, and the regular customers always watched the scene unfold with glee.

Amos took his father’s purse. “We have exactly six gold coins,” he told the innkeeper. “Will that be enough to pay for the scent of a soup that we did not taste?”

Delighted, the innkeeper rubbed his hands. “But of course, young man! It’s the perfect sum!”

Amos shook the purse and jingled the coins close to the scoundrel’s ear.

“Just as we inhaled the smell of a soup that we did not eat,” he said, “now you are paid in kind with the sound of coins that you’ll never pocket.”

Barthelemy laughed loudly. “I believe that this boy has just settled his and his parents’ debt right in front of my eyes!” he exclaimed.

The innkeeper stood openmouthed. He was humiliated. He had been outwitted by a child.

Amos and his parents left, accompanied by Barthelemy. As soon as they were outside the inn, all four of them laughed heartily. However, inside the inn, a profound silence had replaced the mocking laughter.

A
t the suggestion of their new friend Barthelemy, Amos and his parents settled in a nice inn owned by the knight’s mother. They were happy to be able to rest at last. The old blind cat they had adopted lost no time finding a cozy corner to sleep in.

Urban also found a job at the inn. The roof needed to be replaced. After his father’s death, Barthelemy had become the inn’s caretaker, but in spite of his goodwill, he wasn’t very handy; Urban gladly agreed to take care of whatever needed to be fixed. To compensate him, a large, comfortable, sunny room was put at the Daragons’ disposal. And since Frilla agreed to help in the kitchen, the family was also fed. This arrangement suited the Daragons, who quickly settled into their new dwelling.

The inn was named the Shield and the Sword. It was the favorite meeting place of the knights of Bratel-la-Grande.
They gathered there to drink, talk about their recent battles, and play cards. From sunrise to late in the night, there was always someone to narrate a warlike feat, boast about his exploits, or simply relax between two missions. Barbarians from the north regularly invaded the kingdom, and serious battles were commonplace. Barthelemy’s father, who had been a great knight, had been killed in battle. His victories were still recounted often. He remained alive in the memory of his companions in arms, and the stories of his prowess moved his widow to tears every time.

When passing through Bratel-la-Grande, the knights of neighboring kingdoms always stopped at the Shield and the Sword to discuss the latest news and to boast of their dexterity with sabers. It was a lively spot, always swarming with people, where laughter and the most incredible stories could be heard at any time of the day.

The inn was spacious, well kept, and surrounded by magnificent rosebushes. Located a fair distance from the center of town, this dark redbrick two-story house had a lot of charm. Yaune the Purifier, lord of Bratel-la-Grande and master of the Knights of Light, often came here to relax or talk with his men. For someone as inquisitive as Amos, being in the hub of everything that was happening in the kingdom was a dream come true.

The knights often talked about the curse that had fallen over several of the villages. No one could explain how the residents had been transformed into stone statues. So as a measure of security, the knights had encouraged all villagers to evacuate to Bratel-la-Grande. Those who had not heeded
the warnings fell victim to the terrible curse. In fact, the scourge struck everyone who spent the night outside the walls of the capital.