The Trials of Lance Eliot (34 page)

A crystal star and purple silk ribbon were pressed into my hands, and I stumbled back to my seat.

“There is one more whom I'd like to honor,” said Regis. “I wish he were here with us, but he fell in the struggle against Maldos. This man saved my life on three—no, it was five—or maybe four—on at least four occasions, maybe more. He gave his comfort, his honor and his life for the sake of people he hardly knew, people who annoyed him, people who didn't deserve his sacrifice. I honor the memory of Tsurugi Kanben.”

21

LANCE ELIOT TRAVELS TO A FAMILIAR PLACE

REGIS SAID A PRAYER and dismissed the people. Then he came down from the platform and sat in the seat I had kept for him.

“Thanks for saving my seat,” he said. “I seem to have missed the show.”

“Why the devil didn't you tell us you're royalty?” I demanded, shaking a finger in his face.

“I didn't know until a few days ago. If you're going to blame anybody, you should blame Kana and Atticus. They're the conspirators.”

I turned on Kana. “You told me Victor Bonroi's son was murdered.”

“I had no choice but to mislead you,” said Kana. “If news of Regis had come to Senshu, he would not have rested until Regis had joined his father in the grave.”

“But how did Regis end up in the orphanage?”

“Petra can answer that,” said Atticus.

Petra crossed her arms. “I don't like it talked about, but I worked in the Palace when I was a girl. I was a maid till Senshu came to power and locked me up in his harem. I eventually got away with Galahad's help—he was an assistant to the royal tailor—and married him. We opened our shop and started taking in women who had nowhere else to go.

“Anyway, the news came to me while I was still a maid that the king was dead and Senshu was his replacement. I knew Regis would be killed, so I smuggled him out of the Palace with the laundry and took him to Atticus. He lived at the orphanage till Kana adopted him.”

“I believed Regis was dead,” said Kana. “It was a shock when I met a boy in the street who was the living image of Victor Bonroi. My suspicions were confirmed when I spoke with Atticus. The boy was the crown prince. I realized it was my responsibility to raise him, that he might be restored to the throne when Senshu had received his due judgment.”

“Everything was going splendidly,” said Regis. “Then I ran away. That rather complicated things.”

“That's in the past,” said Atticus. “You're back, my boy, and that's what matters. But forgive me, Your Majesty. I have no right to call the king of Rovenia
my boy
in that disrespectful fashion.”

“I hereby issue a royal decree,” said Regis. “The next person to call me
Your Majesty
shall be given twenty smacks by the royal executioner.”

As we left the Temple courtyard, I put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Regis, I've got a favor to ask.”

A week later, I rose from my bed an hour before dawn and walked to the park. The streets were still and the pavement cool beneath my feet. By the time I reached the park, the sky had turned from black to purple. A few stars still glimmered far above me, and a faint orange glow on the horizon showed the sun was about to rise.

I meandered through the trees until I came to the little meadow where Tsurugi and I had stood on a cold winter night long before. The grass was sprinkled with white clover blossoms. I could hear the river murmuring beyond the trees and birds starting to sing.

Three marble slabs rose from the grass like tombstones. A name was engraved on each. The first was dedicated to the memory of Tamu; the second to the memory of Aidan; the third to the memory of Tsurugi. Regis had ordered these memorials built at my request.

I had brought a basket with me. Putting it down, I withdrew a kettle of blackroot and set it in the grass before Tamu's memorial.

“I think you would have preferred blackroot to flowers,” I said. “Thank you for your kindness. Rest in peace, my friend.”

I took two rods from the basket, assembled them into my staff and laid it in front of Aidan's memorial.

“I know
you
wouldn't have wanted flowers. Thanks for your patience. I'm not grateful for the bruises, but you taught me to endure pain, and that proved terribly useful. Rest in peace.”

I didn't have anything to put before Tsurugi's memorial. He had never wanted to accept anything from me when he was alive. What could I offer him now that he was dead? I stood in front of his memorial for a long time before I could get myself to speak.

“You were Virgil, Tsurugi. You led me through hell. Thank you. I won't give up.”

It wasn't much of a speech, but it was all I could manage. I didn't think I could speak another word without crying. The sky grew brighter. The stars dissolved in the glow of sunrise, and still I stood looking at the name carved into the marble. I was about to turn away when something drifted from the sky onto the grass in front of the memorial.

A red feather.

I stared at it for a moment. It lay against the grass, fiery red and gold against deep green. The feather seemed like a far better offering to Tsurugi's memory than anything I could give. I didn't disturb it. As the sun began to shine, I retrieved the basket and returned to the Palace.

Regis was waiting for me in the courtyard. “There you are, old boy. Are you ready to go?”

“I think so,” I said, checking my pockets. “I've got my crystal star and silk ribbon, a copy of the Book of El, a textbook of Rovenian history, a map of Rovenia and that wooden figurine Miles carved for me.”

“Quite a set of souvenirs,” said the king. “I think your clothes are rather odd.”

“They're the closest things I could find to clothes from my world. I think it would cause quite a stir if I reappeared in Oxford dressed in the Rovenian fashion.”

“I hope you enjoyed your last days in Gea.”

I had decided to spend a final week in Valdelaus. As much as I wanted to go home, I wanted closure, a sense of finality to my absurd adventure.

Those were pleasant, peaceful days. Cog and I shared many discussions, during which I saw many inventions take shape in his dog-eared journal. Regis and I played a few friendly games of dealings, all of which he won. Atticus, Kana and I discussed our adventures over cups of tea.

Maia and I went for several walks and visited a number of bakeries. How many pastries we ate and cups of chocolate we drank during my final week in Gea, I cannot say—probably enough chocolate to float a small boat, and enough pastries to sink one.

Maia wore a black ribbon in her hair in memory of her brother Alexander, and there were times when sadness overtook her and made her smile fade. I learned to be silent when these moments of melancholy came over Maia. They never lasted long. She was the sort of person whose good spirits could never be extinguished for long.

On the day before my visit to the memorials in the park, we enjoyed a final stroll along the river.

“I hope you don't forget about us,” she said as we passed into an avenue of oak trees.

“Of course I shan't forget about you. I know it sounds odd, but I'm glad you summoned me instead of Lancelot. He would have been much more useful, but he wouldn't have learned nearly as much as I have.”

“You were a better hero than he could ever have been. I can't tell you how sorry I am for putting you through so much pain. Even so, I'm thankful you turned up instead of Lancelot. My mistake wasn't a mistake after all.”

“Well, I'm happy someone thinks so.”

“There's something on your mind, isn't there? Tell me what's wrong.”

“I've made so many deuced mistakes, Maia. You've no idea. I'm hailed as a great hero and whatnot, but it's all a farce. Tsurugi and Kana and the others are the great heroes. They did everything right. I did everything wrong.”

“You destroyed Maldos.”

“I did almost everything wrong.”

“What you did right was the thing that mattered. Do you know what you need?”

“Courage and integrity?”

“A cup of chocolate. Here's a bakery. Let's have a drink.”

Back in the Palace, I followed Regis out to the garden. To my surprise, tables had been set up. All my friends, the heroes of the Resistance, raised a cheer as we crossed the lawn and sat down.

“What's all this?” I asked. “Hang it, Regis, I told you I wanted to slip away quietly.”

“Did you? I wasn't listening.”

It was a magnificent meal. Every sort of food that could conceivably constitute a breakfast was there in overflowing abundance. There was laughter. There were many toasts and a few impromptu speeches. Cog juggled rolls while standing on a chair.

After breakfast, we sipped cups of blackroot while the attendants cleared away the dishes and leftover food. By this time the sun was shining in earnest.

“Well,” I said, setting down my cup. “I think it's time for me to slip away.”

“You are a man of great courage,” said Kana. “May El go with you, Lance Eliot.”

“I'm glad I met you,” said Atticus. “Take care of yourself, my boy.”

“Have a good trip back, you hear?” said Petra.

“Thanks for your help with my inventions,” said Cog. “Even genius like mine can benefit from a little inspiration.”

“Thanks for putting up with my brother,” said Abigail, slapping his arm.

“I thank you for all you have done for us,” said Eben.

“We won't forget you,” said Miles.

“You've done more than you know,” said Jian.

“I'll miss you, old boy,” said Regis.

“So will I,” said Maia. “I'll be praying for you. Speaking of which, in light of my record as a Vocomancer, I'd be grateful if you'd all pray I don't send him to the wrong place.”

“Oxford,” I said. “It's in England.”

“I'll do my best. Try to relax, all right? Thank you again, Lance. For everything.”

Maia smiled, and for an instant we stood looking at each other.

Then she touched my arm, and my surroundings vanished like smoke. I was expecting it, and I knew exactly what was happening, but it still came as a shock. There was a roar. I felt like I was falling through space, stars wheeling about me.

The sound faded, and I realized I was sitting on something hard. It was a wooden bench.

I was back.

For a moment, I was too dazed to think. I heard the soft clicking of dominoes and a gentle murmur of conversation. Snow was falling on the other side of the window glass. My hand clutched a cup of Scotch and lemon. It was as though nothing had ever happened. I set down my drink and felt in my pockets. There were the books and the figurine and the crystal star.

I realized I hadn't any money. My train ticket was gone, probably smoldering with my old clothes in the ashes of Faurum. I would have to borrow money from someone and purchase another ticket before my train left. Though my legs were weak, I lurched to my feet and staggered toward the door, abandoning my Scotch and lemon.

“Just look at that fellow,” muttered one of the old men playing dominoes. “Looks inebriated, he does.”

“Sad how the younger generation has slipped,” replied the other man gravely.

I left the pub and stumbled along the pavement. At length I reached another public house, found a friend and asked to borrow some money. He loaned me a few ten-pound notes. After a brief stop at my flat to collect my baggage, I took a cab to the station, bought a ticket and boarded the train.

The train wasn't due to leave for another forty minutes, so I had my compartment to myself. I sat on the bench, put my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands. It was beginning to sink in. I was back. It was oddly disappointing, like awaking from a vivid dream to find myself in a dreary bedroom.

The trip to Reading passed without incident, unless you count my stumbling into a man in a suit as I wobbled toward the bathroom. I felt weak, and the motion of the train sent me reeling like a drunk. When the train arrived at the Reading station, I pulled my suitcase from the rack and joined the queue of people exiting onto the platform.