Authors: Wil Ogden
The Nightstone (11 page)
“You’ve used all my hounds?” Glacia asked Darien. They spoke in an alley near Darien’s tower. That Glacia had one of her secret bungalows nearby, was common knowledge among the demons of the region, its precise location was not. She could be seen in the area without arousing suspicion. Entering Darien’s tower, however, would raise eyebrows.
“The boy who has the key is resourceful. He has friends who have adapted to expecting them.” Darien said. “Is there other assistance you could provide?
“I’ll have to think on it,” Glacia said. “I have some ideas, but I’ll have to be sure you won’t again squander the opportunities I provide you.”
“I have plans in motion that will succeed, but it’s going to be a very ugly solution,” Darien said. “We’re not going to be very popular with the gods of that world. Anything more elegant would be preferred.”
“You won’t be popular,” Glacia said. “I’m not involved, remember.”
Glacia pulled a hood over her head. It was made of thin gold mail, and didn’t hide her identity, but it let people know she didn’t want to be identified, which among demons scurrying for the favor of any lord had the same result. She walked past Darien without any parting pleasantries, though she did allow her tail to flick in front of his nose.
The alleys wouldn’t hide her forever, so she went out to the main thoroughfare and walked. The demons parted in front of her, some looking away, others bowing, but none let her pass without reacting to her status. She smiled. Making lesser demons appease her was one of the small pleasures of Demia. When she entered another alley, she was sure no one would follow her.
Bored of walking she opened a portal back to her palace; it would have been a three day walk from Darien’s Tower and she couldn’t think of enough entertainment on the way. She had no need to stay at her bungalow that night.
Her Hound master was waiting for her in her throne room. She gestured for him to approach as she stopped in the corner of the room from which sound did not carry. She suspected none would dare spy on her, but prudence dictated she not fully trust any demon.
“Report,” Glacia said.
The Hound master said, “I took hound form more than half a dozen times and each time projected to the mortal realm to the locations you dictated. Each time I found the boy and attacked, careful not to injure the boy or his companions, at least not beyond superficial scratches. Also, as ordered, I made sure the Key was still present. Darien believes that I sent a pack of hounds, one at a time, but only I made the projection to Mealth.”
“You performed perfectly,” Glacia said. “As a reward, I grant you the territory that used to belong to Qexeq. It’s a small territory, but you’ll need to establish yourself. I’ll lend you a dozen of my high guard until you can recruit your own.”
“And what stipend should I send to you, and how often?” The Hound master asked.
“I require none,” Glacia said. “Just your loyalty, if I should ever need it.”
“Thank you, Lady Glacia,” The Hound master bowed and walked away.
Glacia walked over and sat on her throne. Her seneschal approached and asked if she would be taking audience that day.
“Yes, send in the petitioners,” she said. She enjoyed every opportunity to manipulate the affairs of others. Demons seeking charity and assistance often seemed to be the most open to manipulation—almost as open as those looking for a leg up in the eternal battle for power. Little did they understand that the most assured way to lose that battle was to be the manipulated, while the surest victory lay in being the eternal manipulator.
Fork was nothing like Ignea. The first thing Pantros noticed was that it didn’t smell of salt and fish. It mostly smelled like shoes, Pantros decided. It smelled like shoes at the end of a long day walking.
Ignea’s buildings were stucco and all the buildings had the same ceramic tile roofs. Fork’s buildings were made of a variety of materials, mostly granite, but some wooden structures were evident. The wood shingles of the roofs made Pantros nervous. He wasn’t sure the wood would support a roof walker.
The biggest difference in Fork was the city walls. They’d passed by a line a mile long to enter the city through a tunnel in the wall. The walls, at least at the base, were thicker than the common room at the Hedgehog was wide. They extended from horizon to horizon.
Once inside the walls, Pantros couldn’t believe how many people were packed into the streets. The carriage moved slower than a person could walk.
“How many people are there here?” Tara asked
,
voicing a question Pantros too was curious to answer.
“Almost two million,” Estephan said. “It’s the largest city on the continent, but it’s at the center of all the land routes.
Northeast to Valencia, Northwest to Glimmer, South by road or barge to Everton and Novarra.
Southwest to Grabar, Melnith and Vehlos.”
“I can’t even imagine two million people,” Pantros said.
“Spend an afternoon in The Pit,” Estephan said. “Your imagination will expand in directions you can’t fathom.”
Pantros had heard of The Pit, mostly from Sheillene.
“That’s true,” Sheillene said. “I remember my first visit to The Pit. So much innocence lost in one afternoon.”
“I think you’ve told me the story,” Pantros said.
“Not the whole thing,” Sheillene said. “There are some things even I don’t talk about.”
Watching out the carriage’s window, Pantros slowly began to understand just how many people they were around. People were walking past the window in both directions. At any time he could see a hundred people out the window.
“Are all the streets this crowded?” Pantros asked.
“Just the ones big enough for our carriage to pass,” Estephan said. “Usually we don’t allow such large carriages into the city. I am the prince, so I get to take my carriage wherever I like. The city was built in stages over the last millennium or so. Each time it expands, people start building outside the walls. Eventually we build new walls to keep the new sections of the city safe. There are very few passages through the old walls. The streets that lead through those tend to be the most crowded. This street is the only straight route from Southgate, where we entered, to the palace.”
“How can anyone live here if they have to move through such crowded streets?” Tara asked. “I’d never want to walk on streets this crowded. I could almost walk on the shoulders of the crowd, they are so many.”
Meredith said, “I have cousins that live in the docks quarter. My uncle has never been through any of the city walls. He just stays in the neighborhood he knows. He tells the story of how one day he climbed to the top of a building that could see over the city walls, out over the countryside and the vast landscape disturbed him such that he never wanted to go anywhere.”
Jonah had spent four days telling tales of ancient heroes and great love stories in history. But he’d never told the same story twice and he’d never again asked for theirs. Charles couldn’t remember most of the stories. Mostly they were stories of historical figures or heroic tales with a few fairy tales. A few names Charles recognized as being characters in several stories. Jonah seemed fairly fond of an ancient Abvi General named Vena, and a Mythical Prince named Kehet.
The inns had all been pleasant, usually looking better inside than out. Everything he’d promised at the onset of the wagon ride turned out to be true. It was just before dinner on the second day that they arrived at a place where there were several concentric circles of wagons and carriages, all colorfully painted.
“Welcome to the summer camp of the Gypsies of the Wandering Rose,” Jonah said as he pulled his wagon into the center of the camp. Women and men all dressed in sparse but colorful silks gathered around the wagon and began unloading the contents. Other than glances and smiles, no one seemed to pay particular attention to Charles and Heather.
A woman dressed in sea green silks that were somehow sparser than the clothing of the other gypsies approached Charles and Heather as they stepped down from the driver’s bench. She was the epitome of beautiful. Her long pale blonde hair hung to her waist in gentle curls that seemed to accent more of her body than they hid.
“So, where have you been hiding all these years?” She said. Her voice was a seductive purr.
“Do you know him?” Heather asked.
“No,” Jonah interrupted, “Diten does not know Charles. She’s just particularly friendly.”
Diten then leaned close to Heather and whispered loud enough for Charles to hear, “Maybe I want to know him. Maybe I want to know you.” Her purr seemed a constant in her voice.
“I need to present them to the Queen, Diten.” Jonah said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Make new friends later.”
Diten walked her fingers over Jonah’s hand on her shoulder. “Oh, I will, unless I decide to renew some old friendships.”
As she walked away her hair swayed in an almost mesmerizing dance around her body. Heather grabbed Charles's jaw and turned him to face her. “I think we were off to see the Queen. I think we’ve seen enough of Diten.”
“She not often here,” Jonah said. “She’s a friend, but not one of us. She’s not a gypsy.” He led them to a carriage with a balcony. A middle aged woman sat on a pile of pillows on the balcony. “Bow,” Johan told them.
They did and Jonah did as well.
The woman looked up at them then, in a panicked flurry, rolled to her feet, scrambled over the railing of her balcony and knelt on the grass, bowing towards them with her hands outstretched.
Jonah straightened and tapped Charles. He and Heather stood as well. The woman, whom Charles had assumed was the Queen, continued to prostrate herself before them.
“I’m not sure this is what I expected,” Heather said. “Isn’t she the Queen?”
“She is.” Jonah grabbed Charles’ arm and nodded to the queen. “Tell her she may rise.”
These folks had strange customs, Charles thought. “You may rise,” Charles said as gently as he could. When Jonah released his arm, Charles stepped up to offer the Queen his hand. The queen took his hand, but kept her head bowed towards him as she climbed to her feet.
“Thank you, Majesty,” the Queen said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“Now I’m twice confused,” Charles said. Why would a queen be expecting him, and why would she address him with such an honorific as ‘Majesty’?
Jonah stepped to the Queen’s side. “Charles is not yet fully aware of
who
he is.”
“Then it’s time he was,” The queen said. “My name is Queen Azalea of the Wandering Rose Clan. Your name is Kehet, Prince of the Unicorns.”
“I’m who of what?” Charles asked. The name was familiar from Jonah’s stories. He looked around to see if a crowd had gathered to see how they’d react to the Queen’s joke. Surely, this had to be a joke. A crowd had gathered, but no one was laughing.
Heather was nodding.
“Do you know something I don’t?” Charles whispered.
“It makes sense,” Heather said.
“Unicorns aren’t even real.” Charles said.
“That’s a myth,” Jonah said.
“Right,” Charles agreed. “Unicorns are a myth.”
Jonah shook his head. “No, the part about them not being real is a myth. They’re quite real. They just don’t like to be hunted, so they like to keep the myth that they are a myth going.”
“Woman,” The Queen said, addressing Heather. “You said this made sense; how?”
“He could be anyone,” Heather said. “I found him by the river three years ago. He had no memories at that time and still can’t remember anything before that. And he heals unlike a normal person would. I saw him return to how he looks now from a body covered in nothing but charred flesh. There was an explosion at the Blackstone mines. He wouldn’t be alive if he were human.”
“So you would be Heather?” The Queen said, it barely sounded like a question so much as a confirmation. “Thomas told us to expect both of you. Jonah’s been out looking for you for almost three weeks.”
“Thomas?” Charles asked.
“This town of Blackstone, from whence you came, must be quite remote,” The Queen said. The mirth in her tone was the first lightening of the mood since they’d arrived at the Gypsies’ town. “Jonah, tell them who Thomas is.”
“Thomas Boncanta is the greatest bard to ever live.” Jonah said. “And, some myths say that he’s lived forever and some say he’s lived forever thrice. I know him as a close friend, as I know you as a close friend, or knew you until your disappearance a millennia ago. About a decade ago, Thomas dropped of a box for the two of you when you returned. That was the last anyone has seen of Thomas. He told me he was setting sail to see the other continents. He had some secret to keep.”
The Queen went to her wagon, this time using a door on the side. When she returned she held a simple and crudely carved wooden box. She opened the box and presented the contents to Charles and Heather. “The bracelets are for the Wizard, the ring for the Unicorn.”
Heather gagged and gasped. No one had mentioned her talents.
“Your secret is safe among us,” The Queen said. “Gypsies may have the reputation for not recognizing property and selling anything and everything, but we keep secrets.” She handed the box to Jonah then pulled the bracelets out and offered to help Heather put them on. The bracelets were gold and wide enough to cover most of Heather’s forearm. They looked heavy. As soon as the inside of the bracer touched Heather’s skin, they flowed onto her, appearing almost molten then hardening again on her arms. They were skin tight.
“How strange,” Heather said. “They’re very comfortable, they feel soft inside but…” The tapped her arms together and the bracelets emitted a dull metallic thud. “They are rock hard on the outside. They’re pretty but, how do I take them off?”
“You don’t,” Queen Azalea said. “But panic not; they are not a bad thing. These are enchanted to prevent you from channeling more fire than you can control. Such explosions as the one in Blackstone are all but impossible with those on.”