The Palace (Bell Mountain Series #6) (30 page)

Although Merffin Mord had offered them luxurious accommodations in the palace, Gurun elected to stay at Prester Jod’s townhouse.

“The king should be in his palace,” Mord complained, “and the queen as well.” Gurun thought he seemed fidgety and in a great hurry to get out of Jod’s house.

“We are comfortable here,” she answered, “and we are used to it. We will stay here until after the coronation.”

“Suit yourself!” he said, forgetting to add, “my lady.”

“That man hates you almost as much as he hates me,” Fnaa said, when Merffin had scurried back to the palace. “If you’d touched him, I’ll bet he’d have jumped out of his boots.”

“I think he is a man with many worries on his mind,” Gurun said. “I think he is afraid you might do something foolish at the coronation and ruin the ceremony.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I did,” said Fnaa.

The next day Goryk Gillow was elected First Prester. Jod came home from the conclave out of spirits.

“They must have planned this down to the last vote,” he said. “Few of the presters who have any integrity are in the city now. And so we have a traitor to our country as First Prester.”

“I remember that man,” Gurun said. “I recognized him when he met us at the palace. He came before the gate one day to demand that King Ryons journey to the East to meet the Thunder King. We made that journey in the winter, but an avalanche buried the Thunder King before we reached the mountains.”

“It is said that that was not the Thunder King, but only one of his servants,” Jod said.

“And I have heard it said there is no Thunder King,” said Gurun, remembering the tidings Gallgoid brought down from the Golden Pass.

“Well, there is one now,” Jod said, “and our new First Prester is his creature.”

Fnaa spoke up: “I won’t let him put the crown on my head.”

Jod stared at him, open-mouthed. “But, Your Majesty, you must!” he said. “You’re the only hope for Obann—the king chosen for us by God Himself.”

Fnaa looked like he was about to say something that he shouldn’t say, so Gurun spoke first.

“You may leave the king to me, sir,” she said. And when she was alone with Fnaa again, “What were you about to say to Prester Jod? He doesn’t know you’re only holding King Ryons’ place for him. Don’t make his life more difficult than it is already.”

“He’s a good man, and I don’t like us fooling him,” Fnaa said. “If that new First Prester is really from the Thunder King, maybe I’ll order Uduqu to lop of his head with the giant’s sword.”

“And Uduqu would enjoy doing it, too!” said Gurun. “Then the fat would be in the fire, wouldn’t it?”

“It’d save King Ryons a lot of trouble, though,” said Fnaa.

No sign of Jack or Martis, no sign of Wytt—but they had to be in the palace, Ellayne thought, because Goryk Gillow had arrived in Obann and had just been made First Prester. “Just as Martis predicted,” said her father. “I’d be happy for the chance to tell him so.”

“When Wytt finds them,” Ellayne said, “he’ll tell them that we’re here and help them find us. I just wish there was something more that we could do!”

“We can’t do anything,” Roshay said, “not without putting Goryk on his guard. We must trust Martis to come to us.”

“We’re running out of time, Father.”

In three more days would be the coronation—the day that summer, by the calendar, turned irrevocably toward fall: the traditional day of coronation, as recorded in the Scriptures.

Except for the wide space left open for the coronation itself, the field was full of tents. From all over Obann came former oligarchs and rich men, traders, and ordinary people and their families. Day and night enticing aromas floated out from the cooking tents.

No one seemed to be wondering at the absence of King Ryons’ army, the Heathen men who were Heathen no more. Their absence, Ellayne feared, would give away Fnaa’s game. “Maybe the bad men already know he’s not the king,” she thought. “Maybe they’ll expose him at the coronation. Who knows what they might do?”

But not even her father knew of the substitution of Fnaa for Ryons, and Ellayne wasn’t free to tell him.

“There’s a disaster just waiting to happen here,” she thought. “Jack and Martis, where are you? I need you!”

Jack had not been allowed out of his room in the palace since he’d first been ushered into it, and there was always one of the Dahai at the door to see that no one but Martis came in without Goryk’s permission.

“The coronation’s in three days,” Martis told him, “and I’d like to have us safely out of here before then. But I haven’t found a safe way out yet.”

“I don’t suppose we could just walk out the way we came in,” Jack said.

“Not without several hundred people seeing us,” Martis said. “I’ve made friends with our Dahai guards. A few coins from me will send them off to seek amusement in the city. They don’t like having to be here all the time. I can take you out of this room whenever I please. But where to go from there, I still don’t know.”

Jack wasn’t used to Martis not knowing what to do. More than any other aspect of the situation, that made him uneasy.

“What about that man Gallgoid?” he asked. “Won’t he help us?”

“I have no idea where Gallgoid is or what he’s doing.”

Before Martis could say any more, someone pounded heavily on their door and flung it open—one of the Dahai bodyguards.

“You come quickly, Jayce,” he said. “Chief wants to see you right away.”

“What about?”

The Dahai only shrugged. Martis squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

The Dahai locked the door on Jack and escorted Martis to Goryk Gillow’s room before returning to stand guard over Jack. Two of the other Dahai were stationed in the hall to head off passersby, while the third watched Goryk’s door. He let Martis into the room.

Goryk and Zo sat in comfortable stuffed chairs while Merffin Mord paced the floor and ran his fingers uncontrollably through his hair. He seemed quite close to panic.

“Ah, Jayce,” said Goryk. “Sit down. We may need your advice.”

“What’s the matter?” Martis said. “Has something gone wrong?”

“Wrong?” cried Merffin. “I’d put it a lot more forcefully than that, my friend!”

“Tell Jayce,” Goryk said.

Merffin stopped pacing. His face shone with sweat. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” he said. “The crown! The crown with which we’ll crown our king on Summer’s End—it’s missing. Someone’s stolen it!”

He ground his teeth, but Martis almost grinned. “Gallgoid!” he thought, and could not help admiring the fellow.

CHAPTER 33

Jack’s Climb

Jack was a long time alone. He wondered what Goryk Gillow wanted with Martis. Could there be any danger? He didn’t see how that was possible: he and Martis were the only ones who knew who Martis really was. Unless someone in the palace had recognized Martis, he thought, and spoken to Goryk about it. Jack couldn’t help worrying. “If I don’t get out of this room pretty soon,” he thought, “I’ll go stir-crazy.”

He was still fretting, just sitting on his bed with nothing in the world to do, when he heard a scratching and a tapping at the window. Martis had fastened the shutters earlier to keep out moths. Now it sounded like something a lot bigger than a moth was trying to get in. Jack got up to see what it was.

A bird would have flown away the moment he unlatched the shutters. This intruder gave a soft squeal that for a moment froze Jack in his tracks. “Could it be? But how? How?” In his eagerness he made a mess of opening the shutters and got a splinter in his hand. He didn’t care.

There stood Wytt on the windowsill, brandishing his stick. Jack almost cried out with delight, just in time remembering the guard at his door. The Omah jumped into his arms.

“Wytt!” he whispered. “What are you doing here? I must be dreaming!”

“No noise—bad men will hear,” Wytt answered. He rubbed his head against Jack’s cheek, a gesture of affection usually reserved for Ellayne. “You come with me now—not stay here.”

“I’d love to. But how?”

Wytt pointed to the open window. “Climb. It’s easy. Climb up to next hole.”

Jack leaned out the window and looked up. This section of the palace featured alternating courses of stone, some of it intricately carved for decoration. The full moon bathed it in a silvery light. But actually to climb it, like a lizard or a fly? Jack shook his head.

“I can’t do it. I’ll fall.”

Wytt snorted. “Mouse-heart! Suckling! Only climb a little way. Easy!”

“Easy for you,” Jack muttered. It’d hardly be like climbing a nice tree full of handy branches. Still, it really was only a little way. “I’ll try,” he said.

“Follow me.” Wytt scampered up the wall like a squirrel and in a moment stood on the windowsill directly above Jack’s. It couldn’t be more than six feet higher up.

Jack took off his shoes and tied them to his belt, stuffed his socks inside them. He climbed out to stand on the windowsill. “Whatever you do,” he warned himself, “don’t look down.” Certainly he’d made more difficult climbs than this, just for fun—but none at such a distance from the ground. If he fell from this height, he’d splatter like an egg.

“Come on!” Wytt chattered at him.

“I’m coming; I’m coming!” he grumbled. “Shut up!” He took a deep breath, stretched out a leg to find a toehold, felt along a ridge of carving for a finger-hold, and slowly, gently, pulled himself sideways. Then the next hand, the next foot: and then he was off the windowsill and clinging to the wall, flat up against the stone.

A grown man couldn’t have done it, but Jack did. His hands and feet were small enough to find purchase on the carvings. Hardly daring to breathe, he pulled with his arms, pushed with his legs; and after what seemed an exceedingly long and dangerous few minutes, his hands were gripping the other windowsill. It’d be a shame to fall now! Pushing, pulling, he got his forearms onto the sill, reached inside the window, then got his chest onto the sill, up with one leg, then the other—and finally tumbled into an empty room.

“Good Boy,” Wytt said. He clambered back down to Jack’s window and tugged the shutters back into place. Jack was still panting on the floor when he returned.

“What about Martis?” Jack asked.

Wytt didn’t know how to shrug. “Find Whiteface later,” he answered, “when he sleeps. You wait here for him. No man has been in this room for long time.”