“Has anyone else been here since we left?”
“Funny that you should mention it, someone did come into Lady Nightshade’s old study last evening. They made a ruckus but never came into the library. It wasn’t you two was it?”
“No,” I said. “I think that whoever it was might be responsible for the death of several members of my family. I think that it is very likely that they would like to see me dead too.”
“Horrible,” said Jonathan.
“The problem is that I don’t know who they are. You didn’t see or hear anything that might help us to identify them, did you?”
The ghost shook his head. “I am afraid not. As I said, they did not come up to the library. I didn’t think to go down.”
“Wait. Can you leave the library?” I asked.
“Yes, I suppose so, though, I haven’t felt the need yet. I have everything I need here.”
“Jonathan, if it isn’t too much trouble, if you hear someone in the study, would you pop down to see who it is? You don’t have to open the passage to do that, do you?”
“You mean can I go through walls? Of course. I can interact with things of this world, but only if I choose to do so. As for the other question, I suppose that I could do that.”
“And maybe, after you get a good look at them,” I continued, “could you scare them away? I’d prefer to keep them out of the library.”
Jonathan looked as if he had never considered trying to scare anyone. “I can certainly try.”
“That’s all I ask. So, do you mind if we look around?”
“Not at all. Let me know if there is anything I can help you find.”
“Actually,” said Francis, pulling the copy of the magical diagram from the floor out of an inner pocket. “I was wondering if you would have a look at this. I’m trying to get some information on it and hoped to find something here.”
“Let me have a look,” said the librarian. “Yes, I think I have a few texts that might help you.”
Jonathan led Francis off to a corner of the library. Francis, from somewhere within his robes, produces a vial that gave off a fairly bright, red glow. Brin and I decided to look in the other direction, while Porknoy stayed alert near the stairs.
I appeared to be in a section dealing with foreign cultures. One title caught my eye because the author was listed as Queen Chele Davin. The book was called, Pulghian Games of Chance. I looked further down. Several titles were attributed to Queen Chele. Without exception, they dealt with perfume, gambling, or art. Apparently, my grandmother had been an art aficionado who liked to gamble and smell nice. I never would have pictured the woman who had been married to my family’s—no, Pozzelby’s greatest hero in at least the last thousand years, to have been so...colorful. I wondered if she had played chess.
“Dexter, come and look at these,” Francis said. He was back in the center of the library at a table. He had two large volumes sitting in front of him. “This first book is a history of the Unified War. It was written by the Archmage. Listen to this passage, ‘I first learned of Garegon after I became the royal wizard of Earmund. King, then Duke, Coenbrand had discovered his cult on the island of Gosk two years prior.
“Garegon is an ancient deity with roots possibly going back to the lost city of Tunis on the Eastern Continent. His name had not been heard of on the Western Continent at all, as far as I can tell, until about twenty years ago. I found mention of the name in the ships logs of the Avreni ship, Natalla, dated 3972. The captain reported that he stopped on Gosk to water his vessel and was attacked by fanatical zealots. He lost a landing party and barely got away with his ship. When I took the post in Earmund in 3991, Gosk had an evil reputation and was avoided by sailors.
“However, Coenbrand and several companions went there in 3989 when Theof was stricken by a curse whose only cure was an herbal root that grew on the island. Coenbrand told me that they had tried to trade for what they needed but had been attacked shortly after landing. In the end, Coenbrand obtained what he required to save his friend; Garegon’s temple was half destroyed; and Coenbrand and the others gained the lifelong enmity of the god and his worshippers. While on Gosk they learned a little about the worship of Garegon. During the Unified War, I learned a great deal more.
“Garegon’s cult is known as the Twelve Sect Order. In the twenty years that separated Coenbrand’s first encounter with them and the Unified War, the cult seemed to become a good deal more refined. The Twelve Sect Order is set up like a pyramid. At the top is the priestly sect. They are numerically the smallest of the sects but their power is the greatest. Their symbol, a black star, is what they are commonly called. Beneath them are eleven more sects, numerically greater but subordinate to those above.’”
Francis looked up from the book.
“It goes into some detail about each of the sects,” he said. “This part is interesting. ‘The seventh sect is known as the Blackthorn Huntsmen. They can fight or run for day without tiring. They are expert trackers with animal-like senses of smell and hearing. The Blackthorn Huntsmen hide their features behind twisted masks, most likely to inspire fear.’ Nightshade goes into specific encounters with the hunters. Here, she drew a picture of their symbol—the same as the one in the mask. She drew the symbols of each of the twelve sects—they are the twelve smaller symbols that were in the diagram.”
“And the larger symbol?” I asked, believing I already knew the answer.
“The symbol of Garegon.”
“What’s the other book?”
“This is something else that Archmage wrote. It details various magical circles like the one you found. It is going to take me some time to read everything, but it looks like the circle in the storeroom had to do with communication—or summoning.”
“Summoning a god?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “This type of magic is far beyond what I usually deal with. I’m going to take these books back to my tower and study them. It doesn’t make sense. Why would they have to attack your family to summon their god if it was this easy? There’s more to it. We need help.
“Jonathan, that mirror—the Archmage uses it to come here?”
“That’s right. It’s a fixed gate,” said the librarian.
“Can it be used to communicate with her?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never learned how to use it. When the Lady Nightshade visits, the glass disappears and the frame seems to fill with fog and she just steps through. I’ve never seen it used any other way.”
“It would be helpful if I could speak to her,” said Francis. “If she visits would you tell her about us and my request. I stay in the Gardener’s Tower.”
“I would be happy to help.”
****
I was hungry by the time I got back to the royal suite. Layred Vu came and ate with me. I knew that he had business to discuss, but he did not jump into it right away. Rather, he seemed more concerned with how I was handling everything.
“It is a lot to take in,” he said. “I know. And even more to expect it from someone of your years, especially when the crown came so...unexpectedly. Traditionally, it has been the practice to appoint a regent for kings who come to power before their sixteenth birthday. Oftentimes, the mother or an uncle will assume the role.”
“But I have no one like that left.”
“Indeed. Grimwulf Morbrick is your closest known relative now and he is no more than a second cousin.”
“Do you think that Duke Grimwulf killed my father?”
“I don’t know. He would seem to have the most to gain. It is unlikely that his claim to the throne would be disputed, even though he is not of the royal house. Still, such a method does not match his character. I know that he did not care for Ardwulf, but I would have been less surprised if Grimwulf had attacked the king outright than this. He might take advantage of an opportunity, but this involved planning is beyond the duke’s capabili
ties.”
“Well, we know that someone at the castle was involved, and Grimwulf is not at the castle. I wish Myrick was here.”
“As do I. But we did not know that we had an enemy in the castle when he left. Hopefully, he will be back soon and hopefully he will have found something.”
We ate in silence for a while, mutton stew and fresh bread. It had only been a week since the night when Myrick showed up in Earmund with his terrible news, only a week since being forced to flee from the only home that I had known and made to grow up overnight.
“The funeral ceremony is in a few days. Do you think that he will be back for that?” I asked.
“If he can be. He’ll try. Myrick and Ardwulf were close.”
“I know.”
“Dexter, I wanted you to know that I think that you are doing an excellent job so far. Myrick and I both hoped that you would. From what I knew of you, I had high hopes. And you have not disappointed me.”
“Thank you. You knew about me, before this?” I was surprised. I’d always felt rather anonymous and forgotten at home.
“Of course,” he said, laughing. “You were fourth in line for the throne and, in my opinion, better suited to the throne than either of your brothers, if you will forgive me for saying so.”
“What about my father? He would have been a good king.”
“Yes, your father was capable. But, after your mother left—he was affected poorly.”
“Wait, what do you mean she left? My mother is dead. My father said so.”
Layred Vu looked at me seriously. “Perhaps I should not have said anything, or left it for Francis to tell. But you are king now and I think it is time that you knew the truth. You know, of course, that you did not have the same mother as your brothers.”
“Yes.”
“When their mother died, your father took it rather hard. He left Earmund for a time and traveled. In the course of his travels, he met your mother, Emily. She was not of noble blood, but was an extraordinary woman. Your father fell in love with her. She loved him as well but did not want his world. When he asked her to marry him, she would only agree to a one year contract.
“Your father agreed and brought her back to Earmund Castle, where they married. Emily became pregnant and nine months later, you were born. I believe your father hoped that during the year, she would grow to desire to stay, especially after you were born. But when the year expired, Emily left as she had said she would and went back to her life.”
“My mother left me?” I was numb. I had long since accepted that she was dead, as my father had claimed. But now to learn that she had not died but had abandoned me—it was crushing. “Is she still alive today?”
“Dexter, don’t believe that your mother did not love you. I met her and have no doubt that she loved you dearly. But she had a life of responsibility and she did not think that she could take care of you as well as your father could. As for whether or not she is alive today, I am not really sure. I have heard bits of news from her over the years, but nothing recent. Francis might know.”
Francis. He had known all along but had let me think that she had died when I was a baby. I had thought Francis was my friend, but I had never felt more betrayed than I did right then.
Layred Vu tried to change the topic to business. I hardly heard him. He said something about sending Porknoy back to Earmund to bring soldiers to reinforce the castle guard. I agreed. He said some other things, but I didn’t really hear them. It was nearly dark when he left.
Numbness turned to anger. I don’t think that I had ever felt so angry—at Francis, at my mother, my father. Then remembering that my father was dead, I felt guilty for feeling angry at him. I wanted to go and confront Francis right then. Some shred of reason warned me to wait, not to go in this state. But I could not sit there impotently in my suite. My pent up emotions demanded some sort of action.
I thought of the passage in the wardrobe. Brin had told me that it led outside of the castle completely. Maybe I would run away, or at least make everyone think that I had. Maybe if they felt as bad as I did, it would make me feel better. I’m not really certain what I hoped to do, but emotions at thirteen are mercurial and don’t answer to the intellect.
Crossing my room to the wardrobe, I opened the panel in the back and slipped out.
****
Twenty minutes later, I was outside of the castle, beyond its walls. A cool breeze was coming off of Lake Marie. I kept close to the mountainside, hiding in the shadows until I was further from the castle. Once, my sword belt got caught on an outcropping of rock and I nearly fell. I still had not gotten used to wearing a weapon, but had been doing so since the flight from Earmund at the insistence of every adult in my life. After ten minutes I thought that I was far enough from the castle to cross the road and head to the lake without being seen.
In the half hour since I had left my room, I had already cooled off considerably. Just the act of leaving had drained much of my righteous anger. I still needed to be alone—to think—but I no longer was entertaining thoughts of running away or even of making anyone think that I had. I just needed to sort things out. Hopefully, I could slip back into my room before anyone realized that I was gone. With it being late, I should be able to be gone for hours before anyone missed me.
I made my way to the edge of the lake. The black water gurgled gently against the shore. Sitting on a rock, I was caught between a cacophony of bullfrogs ahead and crickets and cicadas behind. They made a weird sort of music. Across the lake I could see a few lights from Dunlevy; it was not so late that the taverns weren’t open still. Above me, there was a quarter moon low and big in the sky and some of the brighter stars pierced through the hazy, summer, night sky.
I stretched out on my rock and just stared out over the glassy water and up at the moon. I avoided glancing back at Pozzelby Castle. I didn’t want to look at it right then, though I was very aware of its lurking presence—a fat, waiting spider. I tried to forget it. My mother might be alive. I might not be alone in the world, bereft of family. Maybe I could find her. The thought elevated me. Then the thought that she had abandoned me intruded and crushed my fantasy. Why would she want to see me now after having missed the first thirteen years of my life?
I vacillated like that for a long time. The moon had climbed higher and was now small and brightly focused. My mind started to drift. Someone was trying to kill me. I wondered if Francis had found anything in the books from the Archmage’s library. Was he still up? Probably.
I sat up and realized that I had been asleep. I looked up. The moon was not much higher than the last time that I had glanced at it. Lights were still on in town. I could not have slept for very long, but I should get back, I told myself. However, I still wanted to come to some sort of resolution about the revelation that Layred Vu had imparted to me.
I could not solve anything emotionally. My emotions had had me going round and round all night. Something occurred to me—this was no different than playing chess. All I had to do was decide what my next move would be. Okay, when I play chess I generally have an idea of what my next several moves will be, but I really can’t know for certain until my opponent moves. It was a great relief emotionally to view things this way.
It was my turn. What was my next move?
When I looked at it like that, the answer was simple. I would talk to Francis in the morning—I would get the truth. I would reserve judgment until then.
I stood and stretched. I was tired and had seen no one out and the frogs and cicadas had not quieted in the least. I guess that’s why I was unprepared for the horsemen on the road.
I first noticed them when one nearly ran me over as they came cantering by. I leapt back off of the road. The rider’s horse was startled and he was nearly thrown. Then I noticed there were others—six in all.
They were not wearing tortured cat masks; that was a blessing. But
they were not neither my castle guard, nor General Till’s royal army. One very hairy and very large rider turned his horse sharply toward me.
“Clod! What are you doing scurrying about in the middle of the night? My advisor was nearly thrown from his saddle,” he said.
I had read several books on diplomacy. I did not draw on what I had learned.
“Me? Who are you circling the castle at this hour? The gate has been closed since dusk.”
“Such impudence! In Bleakmoor, children know better than to speak so to their betters,” he said in a rough, low voice. I heard the sound of a sword leaving its scabbard and saw the moonlight glint off of steel. “I am Duke Grimwulf Morbrick! Tell me your name if you wish, before I punish you for your insolence.”
Chapter Six
Bleakmoor is in the southeastern corner of Pozzelby and is mostly swamp. The largest is, aptly enough, called the Bleak Fen and is closely followed in size by the North Moor, north of the Ipex River. Bleakmoor boasts a sizeable population of swamp-men, many of whom are outlaws or tax-evaders. There is said to be a good-sized town almost in the center of the Bleak Fen. In fact, Bleakmoor would have nothing going for it at all if the Ipex River did not meet the sea there, making the city of Greenport an important trading center.
Excerpted from J.R. Grimble’s, Pozzelby: A History
Hearing that name made me go cold inside. I did not care about everyone’s speculation that the Duke of Bleakmoor was innocent. Here he was! Skulking about in the night barely over a week since the murders. It was a three day journey from Bleakmoor to Pozzelby Castle; he would have had to have left only a few days after the murders. How did he know so quickly? Still, he hadn’t said anything about the murders or being here because of them, but why else?
I thought about running, but there was nowhere to go. I considered lying and dismissed the thought. I was the king—I would not lie to Morbrick. Hoping that my voice did not crack and fighting adrenaline-induced dizziness, I stepped forward.
“Duke Grimwulf, I am Dexter Davin, your cousin and your king.”
Grimwulf Morbrick paused. His advisor, an older, bald man, the one who had nearly fallen from his horse, said something to Grimwulf in a hushed tone.