Coenbrand’s line, my line, was the only one to continue on in Pozzelby. After the Unified War, King Jeremiah and King Korric left and founded the island nation of Unity. King Theof stayed until Coenbrand’s death (yes, I am one of those who believe he died.) and then, rumor says, he departed for the north, abdicating his claim to the throne so that Coenbrand’s descendants could enjoy undisputed rule.
A knock on the door brought me back to the present. Several servants were at the door bearing water for the bath and a tray of food—water, wine, cheese, bread with honey, cold meat, and several apples.
“Thank you,” I said. “The water looks lovely. Just leave the food on the table in the sitting room please.”
They left and I undressed and slipped into the hot, relaxing water. I realized that this was the first time in two days that I had been alone. The full impact of my situation finally caught up to me. My family was dead. And even though I had always been afraid of being a disappointment to my father, I had loved him and my brothers very much. I had always been close to my brothers as I had not been with my father. Now they were gone. I would never see them again, talk to them again. I hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. In fact, the day that they had left, I had stayed in my room because I had been angry and I hadn’t spoken to any of them. On top of that, I was the king now. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that might entail. It was too much. I found myself crying and tried to stop it, but couldn’t. Soon, I was crying as I hadn’t in years. Eventually, I cried myself out. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the tub and tried not to feel anything.
I heard a sound behind me, like a shoe scraping stone. Was there someone else in the room? My eyes opened and my head snapped around. I nearly jumped out of the bath at the sight of Brin behind me. She appeared to be passing through.
“What in blazes are you doing in here?” I demanded.
“Hmm?” She seemed to notice me for the first time. “Nothing really. I’m quite bored.” She came closer to the tub until she was standing right beside of it.
“How did you get in here?” I asked.
“Oh, through the passage behind the towel rack. The castle is full of old hidden tunnels. Remember, we had this conversation already once?”
“Uh huh. Brin, you really shouldn’t be in here right now.”
“Why not? Oh, you’re having a bath. Modest are you?”
“It isn’t that, well yes it is. Just hand me a towel will you?”
She took a large towel from the rack and handed it me. I started to rise, then stopped.
“Do you mind?”
“No, of course not.” Brin turned around and faced the wall. “Of course, I’m not the one with hang ups.”
I felt my face color, but I did not say anything. All of my tension was back, but at least I wasn’t concerned about being alone. Besides, something about Brin’s manner made it hard to be angry with her; one might as well be angry at a wall. She seemed impervious.
“I saw a robe in the other room. I’ll fetch it and put it on,” I said. She shrugged. “Would you stay for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you.”
Brin sighed and rolled her eyes behind her thick glasses. “If you have to.”
“Great. Why don’t you go sit down in the front room. I’ll be right there.”
I put on the robe that I had seen in the bedroom. It was too long for me in the arms and dragged on the floor, but it was better than nothing. I wondered why I had asked Brin to stay. I really had nothing to talk to her about. I just didn’t feel like being alone at the moment.
Brin had seated herself on the largest chair in the room. Her legs stuck out straight, revealing purple stockings with a pattern that looked like a black spider’s web. I grabbed the tray of food and then sat down on the chair next to her’s.
“Something to eat?” I asked.
She looked the tray over and then took a hunk of bread with honey. I munched a piece of cheese and washed it down with water.
“So Brin, how long have you lived at the castle?” I started lamely.
“Four years. What’s it to you anyway?”
“Oh, just wondering is all. How did you come to be here anyway?”
“My father is Earl Horace of Scrytch. My mother died four and a half years ago. It took my father less than six months to decide that he would rather not have to deal with me at home. I think King Ardwulf must have owed him a favor, because he agreed to foster me here. Any other questions?” she asked in her typical cross fashion.
“Yes. Are you always like this?”
She looked slightly taken aback—it might have been my imagination. Her answer was suitably defiant.
“I am afraid so, live with it.” she said. “Now, I have something to say to you. I heard that King Ardwulf is dead. I guess that you’re the new king, though why they would make such an obviously stupid boy king is beyond me.” This last she said to herself, as if unaware that I could hear her. “Anyway, don’t even think about trying to make me leave the castle. Forget it; my father doesn’t want me back.”
“That’s sad,” I said.
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Did you know King Ardwulf well?” I asked, changing the subject.
Brin nodded. “He was nice to me, unlike most of the people around here.”
“Do you miss him?”
She shrugged, a little too quickly. “I’ve lost people before.”
“I am only asking because I lost my father and my brothers in the same attack that killed King Ardwulf. I never knew my mother. It occurs to me that we really have a lot in common. Perhaps we could be friends.”
Brin looked skeptical but said, “Maybe.”
“Think about it. If you feel lonely you could come and talk to me, or if I’m lonely I could come and talk to you.” I tried to hold back a yawn and failed miserably. “I’m sorry. I guess I should get some rest now; I’ve barely slept in the last two days.”
“Okay,” Brin said. She got up and rather than go to the door opened a panel next to the fireplace. “See you later,” she added as she passed through it and closed the door shut.
I dragged myself to the bedroom and fell into the bed. Soon I was asleep, so I never knew until later that the wardrobe opened and Brin’s head peeked out. She watched me curiously for a minute before disappearing back inside.
****
The next morning I attended a conference with all of the most powerful people at Pozzelby Castle. Myrick was there, of course, and Layred Vu. Myrick introduced me to the others in turn.
“This is Pozzelby’s senior general, Tabor Till.”
Tabor Till’s face held no trace of warmth or humor. I got the impression that he was never anything other than completely serious. He stood and bowed stiffly.
There were some others present as well: Captain Cormac Talon, the Captain of the Guard; Chancellor Jerin Cheraw, my financial advisor; and Gradic Kern, my advisor on international affairs. Tayu was there; I learned that her title was chief steward.
We sat at a round table covered with maps of Pozzelby, the continent, and the world. I very much wanted to study the maps before me, but we got right to business.
Myrick began.
“As everyone knows, we face a difficult time ahead. The king has been murdered, as well as his brother, the Duke of Earmund, and the duke’s two oldest sons. An attempt was also made on the life of King Dexter. I identified the would-be assassins as members of the Blackthorn Huntsmen sect. It is imperative that we learn who is behind these attacks as quickly as possible and bring them to justice.”
“Word of Ardwulf’s death is already being spread around the country,” Layred Vu interjected. “It leaked out into Dunlevy yesterday morning, only hours after we got word of it ourselves. The nobles will expect an explanation and some sort of action. They will be anxious to see the new king and be reassured that everything is under control. We al
ready dispatched messengers to every province and county. They went out at dawn. The funeral ceremony, by tradition will in eight days, thirteen days from the attack. As we speak, Ardwulf, the duke, and King Dexter’s brothers are being brought in from the mountains.”
“Everything is not under control yet, is it?” said Captain Talon. “The king is dead. On its face it looks as though someone was trying to eliminate the House of Davin entirely. If King Dexter had not escaped, Grimwulf Morbrick would lay claim to the throne. Have we had any communication with Duke Grimwulf? Do we know if there was an attempt on his life? Or is he our best suspect?”
“Duke Grimwulf has never shown much capacity for scheming,” said Myrick. “He is more prone to straight forward action. And while there was no love lost between Ardwulf and the duke, I am not convinced that he is our man. We should, of course, exclude no one, but let’s look at all of our possibilities.”
“Perhaps the attacks did not come from an internal source. What if some external power is trying to disrupt Pozzelby?” asked Gradic Kern.
“Blackthorn Huntsmen? Aren’t they some sort of mercenary group? It is too bad that you weren’t able to capture any of them for questioning,” Tabor Till said to Myrick. “In fact it was only by luck that King Dexter survived at all. From your own account, you were just a little too late to engage the huntsmen at all. And where were you when Ardwulf and his kinsmen were killed. You were always at the king’s side and yet somehow he was slain while you escaped unscathed.”
“General, what are you insinuating?” Layred Vu asked.
“As Myrick said, we should not overlook any possibility. I’m certain that I am not the only one who finds his account of the attack on the hunting party suspicious. Then after the attack, he immediately rides to Earmund, where there is another attack that he does nothing to prevent or help defend against. When the attack failed, he brought King Dexter here, gaining his trust along the way. With respect, King Dexter is inexperienced. One might be inclined to think that he could be manipulated because of that inexperience.
“Kern, you suggested that this is an external attack. Need I remind anyone that Myrick is a foreigner? And an ex-mercenary besides!”
“You question my loyalty?” Myrick said in a quiet voice.
“Indeed I do!”
“Stop it!” Layred Vu snapped. “It does us no good to question each other. Myrick has proven himself over and over again, as have you, General. If we start bickering amongst ourselves, we will never resolve this.” He turned and looked at me. “What say you, My Lord?”
My breath caught; I felt unqualified to speak an opinion or make any decision. But I had to—it was my job. I forced myself to breathe and to think.
“Layred Vu is right,” I said. “Bickering will not find my family’s killer. I have not known any of you for long and can’t speak on motives. I hope that we all want the same thing here, to find and bring to justice the killer of the king and the rest of my family.
“I know that my uncle was an intelligent man and he valued Myrick’s counsel. I am inclined to do the same. However, General Till’s advice is also wise. We should overlook nothing. Perhaps to ensure that all avenues are explored, we could have two independent investigations. Myrick will head one and General Till will take the other one.”
The general nodded. “Very wise, Sire. That is acceptable to me. I will get my best intelligence agents to work at once.”
I relaxed invisibly. My suggestion seemed to have been a good one.
“Good,” I said. “Keep me posted.”
“Certainly.”
Myrick leaned back in his chair.
“I have already taken a personal vow to find the person or persons responsible for the attacks. With your leave, I will depart immediately after the coronation ceremony.”
“Of course,” I said.
The meeting adjourned. I saw Tayu waiting for me at the door.
“King Dexter, tomorrow we will have your coronation ceremony. It is my duty to prepare you. If you will follow me back to your chambers we can get started at once,” she said.
She set off at a brisk enough pace that I had trouble keeping up. I had not realized how tall she was until now, almost six feet, I guessed. As we walked, I tried to get a better understanding of the layout of the castle. It seemed impossible. Halls went off in every direction, sometimes apparently to nowhere. Once, I saw a staircase that ended in a wall. There seemed to be no overall plan at all. I said so to Tayu.
“Every king of Pozzelby since the kingdom was founded has made an addition. But the castle is something like three thousand years old, older probably. Not every king has had a great esthetic sense. Some of them were downright maniacs, I’m afraid. Many strove to keep the design consistent, but others just threw up a tower here, or put a corridor there with no real thought. But as you know, most of the castle is sealed, including the weirder sections, for the most part. We really only use a small portion of the whole.”
“Small? It seems immense.”
She turned and favored me with a smile. “Only at first; you’ll soon get used to it. I understand your Earmund Castle is quite large.”
“Not like this. Not like this at all.”
When we arrived back at the royal suite, I saw that someone had delivered a big rack of purple and red garments. They looked terribly gaudy.
“This is the traditional coronation costume,” Tayu explained. “I need to see how it fits you.”
She explained how it was to be worn and then she stepped into the hall. There were multiple shirts, some feathered, some embroidered with gold. I put them on, but then saw that they were practically invisible beneath the heavy, fur-lined purple robe that I was expected to wear. Blue tights came next. I hoped that my pants would cover them, but the pants stopped at the knee to better show off the tights, I guessed. The shoes were soft, but too big for my feet; they also had toes that curled up in dramatic and ridiculous fashion.
Reluctantly, I shuffled to the door and showed Tayu.
She eyed me for a good minute, tugging on a sleeve, checking the waist of the pants.
Finally, she declared, “The shoes can use a little stuffing, but otherwise it is a perfect fit!”
Chapter Three
The crown worn by the kings of Pozzelby was fashioned by the Blue Mountain dwarves and won in 2372 by King Otto the Longwinded. King Otto competed with the dwarvish king, Jasper Hardred in an epic battle of dullest oration. King Otto’s winning speech was a twelve day affair entitled, Things I Have Made from My Earwax. Legend has it that nine members of the audience actually died of overwhelming boredom during King Otto’s delivery.
Excerpted from J. R. Grimble’s Pozzelby: A History
The next morning I realized that I had not seen Francis since I had arrived at Pozzelby Castle. I decided that I needed to talk to him before the coronation, which was scheduled to take place that afternoon. I needed something familiar. I needed a friend.
When I stepped out of my suite four guardsmen were there.
“Sire? Can I help you?” asked one of the four.
“I need to go and see my friend, the alchemist called Francis. Do you know where he is staying?”
“I can find out quickly enough, if you will wait a moment.”
The soldier trotted off, leaving me standing there with the other three. I put my hands in my pockets and waited. The three guards stared straight ahead. The silence was a little uncomfortable.
“So,” I said. “Umm, have you all been castle guards for long?”
They looked to one another, puzzled. After a moment, one said, “Yes, Sire.”
“It’s going well for you then?”
“Uh, yes, Your Majesty, I guess so.”
“Good. My name is Dexter by the way.”
“We know, Sire.”
“Of course. And you are?”
“Umm, my name is Anders, Sire. Th
is is Garn and Tolly,” said the man, obviously uncomfortable.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said.
“Likewise?”
The soldier who had gone off came back then. “The alchemist is staying in the Gardener’s Tower,” he said. “I will escort you there.”
“Good. I was just getting to know the others. Your name is...?”
“Sire? My name is Corporal Billik,”
Corporal Billik and Anders escorted me through the castle. We seemed to be going toward the front of the castle, but up several floors. Most of the halls were bustling with people going about whatever their business happened to be. No one paid me much attention and I did not see anyone whom I had so far met, which was just as well.
We arrived at the tower entrance.
“I need to speak to my friend privately,” I said. “Corporal Billik, if you and Anders would wait here for me.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
I went through the door. There was a long, circular staircase leading up. At the top, I found the door ajar. Cautiously, I peeked inside. I did not wish to interrupt Francis if he was in the middle of work. Some of his projects could be quite explosive.
I saw him standing in front of a long table. His back was to me and he was holding a jar with some sort of thick, black sludge. I waited, looking around the room. The tower appeared to have been out of use for sometime as everything was covered in dust, which Francis had yet to clean out. He began to pour the contents of the jar onto the table. It looked like black tar and oozed out slowly. I watched with interest as the tarry substance began to shift and harden. In less than a minute, it had coalesced into a live crow. It did not appear oily or tarry at all, just a perfectly natural bird.
Francis picked up the bird, turned, and saw me standing there. He jumped and the bird cawed in protest.
“Dexter, I didn’t hear you come up.”
“I saw you working and didn’t want to disturb you. That’s amazing, how you created that bird.”
“This? I did not create it as such. It was always a bird, I simply changed its form to make it easier to carry.”
Francis walked over to a desk that was near a window that looked out over Lake Marie. He picked up a small, wooden tube and tied it to the crow’s leg.