The Royals

Chapter 16

'But,' she said, just a little more loudly, 'but I com mend your efforts. Know that you are not to blame for your plight.'

'Glad to see that trouncing we got last fall didn't cloud her reasoning,' said an elf who'd been harder hit than most. Having lost his brother to battle wounds and his wife to starvation, he was quickly becoming the focus of the camp's unhappiness.

'Know that the Dragon Prince, who sits on the Shore men's crumbling throne, fights us at every turn. Know that he seeks to re-join us into the so-called Ash Kingdom even if there is nothing left but our corpses. Know that our sole recourse is to strike before he brings the battle to US.'

Notti listened spellbound. One by one the complaints transformed to cheers.

The elfwitch raised her arms. Her hands were clenched in fists, but it was the silver bracelets that caught the goatboy's attention. Her wide sleeves slid down to reveal gleaming metal, ringing her flesh to the elbows like exotic chain-mail. He would have sworn that the bangles writhed to shadow her every movement.

Fixed on the fluid silver, Notti chanted and shouted along with the rest.

For a fleeting moment, he recalled that the Dragon Prince would still be a lowly beast were it not for her.

Such a vulgar thought was unworthy of him.

Unworthy of her.

Measured against the prince's evil intent, the human's grand essence faded to a trivial matter. To defy the elfwitch over such trifles was sacrilege when doing so gambled their homeland.

Their way of life.

Their very lives.

Joyfully, Notti lifted his fists in salute to their leader and let his voice echo the roar of 'War before death! War before death!'

Prince Henry stared across the rough-hewn table at his two most experienced advisors. 'Master Abadan, are you saying we have no idea where they are? That Kate and Maarcus have vanished?"

'Yes, that's what I'm telling you.'

'How can we lose them so quickly? I thought you gave them a magical device to keep them in communication.'

The magician's constant frown deepened. 'So I did. However, the babble-box does not prevent mishaps. It merely allows us to speak with each other. It cannot tell me where they are unless they speak into it.'

'Well, by the b****y Ladies, contact them!'

"This is what I'm telling you. They don't respond.' Henry slammed his hand down and embedded a splinter in his palm. 'By the Sisters,' he cursed, more annoyed than in pain. 'Doesn't anyone sand or polish the furniture around here?"

Abadan didn't bother to answer. Sir Maarcus seemed not to notice. In fact, Sir Maarcus appeared oddly untrou bled by the news - or the conversation in general.

'What about your scrying bowl?'

'I have no means to track your sister as you well know. The protections we set on you both as infants will likely last until your deaths … or mine. Had I been able to find her, I would not be sitting here now, watching you impale yourself.'

Henry felt his gut clench. His shoulders itched. I do not need this sort of bad omen on my way to the battlefield.'

'Welcome to war with the elfwitch,' Maarcus said. "The door to death is always open.'

'Sir Maarcus? Are you feeling well?' the prince asked.

The man's attention was fixed on a mouse in the corner. 'We need a cat. They've cooked all the cats.'

Henry shook his shoulder. 'Maarcus!'

The elder turned to him with cloudy eyes. 'My grand son is missing. I think I lost him. Perhaps he's playing hide-and-sneak. It's always been one of his favorite games.'

'Yes, that must be it,' Abadan said gently, too gently. 'We'll find him.'

'Well, son, thank you for hearing us out.' Sir Maarcus rose to depart. 'You will let us know when you've found him, won't you.' It was an order, politely put though unmistakably not to be ignored.

Henry played along. 'Yes. I'll notify you just as soon as I hear anything.'

The old physician leaned down and whispered, 'We must keep him safe from the court. He's a very special child.'

'I know,' the prince said. 'Don't worry, sir. We'll find him.'

Maarcus left, closing the door behind him. Abadan made no motion to follow.

That man's going to wander into a snow bank and forget his way home, Henry thought. He dug at the splinter with the knife Kate had given him only yesterday. 'How long has he been this way? He seemed fine a few weeks ago. Didn't he?"

Abadan pursed his lips. I'm not so sure. I thought so then, but Zera's death hit him hard. I don't think he'll ever really get over it.'

'He's got to. We can't spare another good man to watch him.'

The magician said wryly, 'Thank you for your concern, your highness."

'Sorry. We can't spare him either.' He poked at his hand. 'They're falling like game-birds and we've yet to take up arms.'

'As the learned man said, "The door to death is always open.""

'You don't think he actually knew what he was say ing?'

'It's true that his mind has a longer rope mooring it to the dock these days. Nonetheless, the knots are still tight.'

'Just so a storm doesn't bash the boat against the landing.' He was beginning to sound like Kate.

'May I?' Abadan asked, pointing to the prince's palm.

Before Henry could grant his permission, the magician bent nearer. He reached out and pinched the skin. 'Ah, got it!' He held up a sliver of wood, dotted with blood. 'You should show more caution. Men have been known to die from such slight wounds.'

At last the shadows lengthened with the late afternoon sun. The One released the elves to attend to their duties. Freed from the frenzy of the shouting mob, the drained goatboy returned to his dwindling herd. He walked among them, patting flanks and scratching behind ears. As always, the animals listened to his ramblings, yet not a one possessed enough brains to respond.

The dragon would have understood, but the dragon couldn't talk either.

Notti wanted conversation. He wanted to be regarded as part of his own people. He wanted to heal the ugly old wound caused by his mother's exile, the same wound that was ripped open and left exposed to the raw air when the Dragon Prince escaped.

A sliver of daylight pierced the barren trees. Full dark was nearly an hour off. The goatboy double-checked the feed buckets. Against common sense in these times of shortage, he shoveled in grain to the brim to be sure the animals wouldn't disturb him.

He collapsed inside his tent, where no one could see his shoulders shake and nobody would hear his muffled sobs in the rising wind.

The soft wailing didn't take long. The older he got, the less it comforted him and the more it seemed he'd cried out his grief years ago. If he wanted the elves' acceptance, he would have to act. The camp had denied him his manhood ceremony. Nonetheless, he was becoming a man.

He wiped the tear tracks from his face and lifted the tent flap.

Tabor and Theron waited in the meadow prodding a goat with a heavy branch. The animal stood her ground. She'd endured worse from this pair.

'You two! Stop that.'

'Stop that!' they mimicked, though the surprise at his sharp tone showed on their faces. Goatboy felt a rare wisp of satisfaction as they dropped the stick.

'What's your business here? I can't imagine you've come to tend to the beasts.' He let his annoyance show plainly. Notti had had all he cared to take from the likes of these.

'The One,' said Tabor.

'Now,' said Theron, trying to look smug and failing.

'Very well.' He straightened his jacket and smoothed his hair. 'I'm ready.'

Once again the three trooped across the meadow. This time, Notti led and the brothers trailed. He held his head up, refusing to flinch from such a vulnerable position. To be in front dared others to stare at him as they passed, yet none did. The entire camp was busy with their delayed chores. Not a one set aside his own task to hinder the goatboy.

The guards let him through with a stiff nod. Notti entered the elfwitch's tent as the last ray of light faded behind him.

The One casually put away the scroll and coins she'd been studying when the goatboy walked in. Notti stood respectfully just inside the flap and waited. He assumed she proceeded slowly for his benefit. So be it. She would have him see what she wished and he would note her movements without letting curiosity overwhelm him. He fixed his eyes on the opposite tent wall to keep himself from unseemly attention.

She straightened and turned to receive him. "Thank you for coming so promptly,' she said with such gracious sincerity that he almost believed this was an uncommon occurrence.

He blushed and felt foolish for letting her affect him this way. 'My pleasure, Highness."

'Come.' She motioned him forward.

Goatboy's chest tightened. He steadily closed the gap between them, using small steps so as not to insult her with his boldness.

'Come now, you needn't be so timid. You are here by my invitation.' Her hands beckoned him. Beneath the long sleeves her bracelets jangled.

He stared at her arms and found he was walking toward her, not altogether of his own will. He stopped inches from her face. Her brown-yellow eyes captivated him. How much more expressive than the goats' deep brown they were.

'Notti, I have an important task for you before you undertake your journey.'

'Yes, Highness?' Enthralled beyond words, he would agree to anything.

"There are two boys not much older than you, who have a tendency toward savagery. I'm sure you know the brothers I mean.'

Oh, he knew them, all right. He was their favorite prey

'I do not condone anything other than civility. They need to be taught a lesson."

A tiny voice screamed inside Goatboy. Anything he did to them would come back to him sevenfold. It was the Sisters' way. They would find a way to punish him.

The elfwitch seemed to read his thoughts. She set cool hands against his cheeks. Her silver bracelets whispered. 'Have no fear of reprisals. They will be beyond such desires once you've shown them their errors. Won't you like that?"

Would the Sisters endorse his deeds? His gut wrenched while Goatboy smiled and nodded agreement.

'Excellent.' She flung her arms wide, full of enthusi asm. 'Here's what I'd like you to do.' She began a complicated plan, which must have been at least part incantation. Afterward, he could remember only the barest sketch - and that piece alone filled him with dread.

He left her tent feeling fuzzy-headed and overwarm. The cold air slapped him in the face and cleared his mind. He began to head toward the goats when he saw the troublemaking brothers slip under the elfqueen's tent.