A servant rushed to Electra's side. "Shall I inform Chef Cristo?" he asked. His face wore an expression of horror.
"No," she said, too quickly and too loudly. She looked around, but no one seemed to be taking an interest in Long Life Destroyer's behavior. Other Barburee men were attracting attention with similar rowdy behavior.
"No," she said again more quietly. "Our visitors are not used to fish. That is the reason. The food is very well prepared." She took a bite of the pickled cod. "Yes quite good. Tell Chef Cristo I said the fish is quite good." She took a quick sip of wine. "And the wine as well, quite good."
Electra held her breath as the fowl course was served. How could she have thought that these people might enjoy trying some new foods—foods that were not available to a desert people. That idea must have been one of the worst ideas she had ever had. Right next to the idea that she could plan a banquet.
The capons arrived and Electra watched Long Life Destroyer carefully as he took his first bite. He chewed it for a second then cut off another small piece with his knife. Electra took a deep, relieved breath. Too soon, as it turned out. The capon flew off the plate and onto the floor, where servants stood ready with brooms and narrow pieces of wood to sweep it up and carry it away. Electra rubbed the sides of her forehead with her fingertips and moaned softly.
"You are cooking it, this food?" came a voice on her right.
Electra almost jumped out of her chair. She looked into the smiling face of Bataar, Loyal Hero of Barburee.
"You speak our language?" she asked with a look of shock.
"Some little. Queen says you make food for us?"
"No!" She paused. "I mean the cooks made the food, but I'm afraid I was the one who told them what to cook. I'm very sorry."
"Is...new, as you say."
Electra thanked her lucky stars she had not insulted Long Life Destroyer when she spoke to the servant.
"Yes, of course," Electra said.
Mercifully, the fowl course was swept away to make room for the meat course. The still hungry Barburians gobbled down the leg of lamb and shoved the vegetables aside to make room for seconds.
"Is good," The Loyal Hero of Barburee said.
Electra smiled, truly grateful for the compliment. She began to relax at tiny bit.
"Did you enjoy the magic show, Counselor Loyal Hero?" Electra asked.
He stopped eating and laughed. "Is Bataar," he said. "What means Electra? I call you that it means?"
"Oh, I see," Electra said. "He gave us the meaning of your names, not your titles. I must apologize again. We really have no one who speaks your language well to translate for us."
"This magic we see—is from sorcery?" Bataar asked.
"No," Electra said. "It is only tricks. But clever ones."
"Clever?"
"Um, good tricks, to make you believe you have seen something that you have not. Illusions, we call them," she said.
"Illusions?"
"Yes."
"I like meet maker these--these illusions," he said.
"I know him. I will introduce you," Electra said. "How long will you be staying in Fernland?" Electra tried to keep her voice casual, as though the length of his visit had no special significance to the whole of Fernland.
Bataar looked into her eyes. He was not fooled by her nonchalance. "Next day we talk King," he said, as he dug his knife into his second leg of lamb. "Next day we see."
Chapter 11
Kingdom of Fernland
King Geoffrey sat waiting with Muller the Spy to receive the ambassadors from Barburee. They had debated the pros and cons of this reception. Muller believed the king should receive his visitors seated on his throne with a room full of Ministers and Royal Guardsmen. King Geoffrey was of another mind.
"I need to know which of them is in charge," Geoffrey said. He sat at a round table off to the side of the elevated throne. "Let us see who they defer to when given a choice."
Muller arranged six empty chairs around the table where the five ambassadors would sit. When the Barburee men arrived, Muller invited them to sit where they liked around the table.
Twenty Quivers took the chair on the King's left and Bataar took the chair on his right. Long Life Destroyer sat next to Bataar and the remaining two ambassadors, next to Long Life Destroyer. Muller took the vacant seat next to Twenty Quivers.
As soon as everyone was seated, King Geoffrey began the proceedings. "Welcome all. I trust you were well cared for by the staff?"
"Most good," said Twenty Quivers, with a slight bow.
"Have you enjoyed your visit thus far?"
"Most good food and magic," Twenty Quivers said, smiling.
King Geoffrey turned to concentrate on Twenty Quivers. "In your message, you said you wished to discuss the possibility of an alliance."
"Yes, is possible," Twenty Quivers said, nodding.
King Geoffrey waited a few seconds, wondering if he should call in the young student of languages.
"You have alliance with Helsop only?" Bataar asked.
Geoffrey turned to his right and studied the young man. Bataar had dark hair and green eyes. He had a cat-like grace and quickness about his movements that commanded attention. He seemed to radiate an inner strength and confidence that was unexpected in one so young. Geoffrey spoke slowly and clearly.
"It is a loose alliance at best—for purposes of trade."
"Headman Dagon will be son to you?" Bataar asked.
Geoffrey was surprised by the extent of Bataar's knowledge. He had obviously gathered a lot of intelligence on Fernland.
"My son and heir is Prince Avor. Whether or not Dagon will marry my daughter is still in question."
Bataar seemed to consider this for a moment. "No alliance with Henge?" he asked.
"Never!" King Geoffrey's voice mirrored his outrage at the suggestion. "Old King Blackwell's soldiers killed my father. His son Prince Blackwell is in charge now, but old Blackwell is still alive. The old king lost a foot during a battle and almost died. He turned control over to his son too soon, thinking he was about to die. But the old king loves war and keeps trying to goad Prince Blackwell into a war with us. As long as the old king is alive there will be no peace between Fernland and Henge."
Bataar smiled. His green eyes were fixed on King Geoffrey. "Your family treat us good. Magic and food and beds." He paused a moment, thinking, then seemed to light up with a new idea. "We give you for thank. Archery show. You, we."
Geoffrey stared at Bataar with a puzzled expression. He turned to Twenty Quivers.
Twenty Quivers made a circular motion with his hand. "Bataar will do...contest. Archery contest. Your men—our men."
"An archery contest?" King Geoffrey asked. His expression changed from surprise to interest. "When?"
Bataar smiled. "Today, we do," With this he stood up from his chair and the other four ambassadors quickly stood as well. Bataar spoke to the others in the Barburee language and they all left the throne room talking loudly with much gesturing.
Geoffrey looked at Muller as the door closed and said, "I certainly didn't expect that." He relaxed back into his chair, reviewing the interview in his mind.
"It's very obvious that Bataar is in charge, young as he is. He is most likely related to someone high up in the chain of command. Full of himself and unpredictable. An archery contest of all things. What does he hope to achieve with that?" King Geoffrey mused.
"Perhaps he just wants to see how good our archers are?" Muller offered.
"Likely he already knows his are better or he wouldn't suggest a contest. He probably wants to intimidate us. I doubt it has anything to do with thanking us."
Muller reviewed the conversation silently. "He seemed happy that we had no alliance with Henge."
"I'm sure he knew that before he arrived."
"Do you think he means to attack us all? Fernland, Helsop and Henge?" Muller asked.
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"That seems most likely. But it would be easier to attack us one at a time. He is probably pleased to confirm there's not much chance of our banding together against his army."
"Why us?" Muller asked. There are kingdoms to the east they could overtake. Many they already have taken. What do we have that Barburee wants?"
"There is one thing I can think of." Geoffrey rested his chin on his hand. "Not us, but Henge."
"What's that?" Muller asked.
"A port. They are a desert people, land locked. They may want a port city."
"In that case, they may spare Fernland," Muller said.
King Geoffrey shook his head. "Were I a gambler, I wouldn't wager on it. Keep a watch on Bataar. Let me know who he speaks to and what questions he asks."
Muller turned toward the door.
"And send in the Captain of the Guard," Geoffrey added. "We'd best get our archers on the field."
Chapter 12
Kingdom of Fernland
Word of the afternoon's archery contest spread quickly. The archers told their families and their families told their friends. By mid-day the archers had assembled on the King's archery field and crowds of Fernlanders lined the long grassy field. Princess Electra stood in a group that included Prince Avor, his friend Lance and several young archers.
"You should take my place," Lance said to Prince Avor. "You are as good an archer as I am now."
"I'm not even part of the archery unit," Avor replied. "I'm glad they chose you to represent Fernland."
Princess Electra noted her brother Avor had grown both taller and wider through the shoulders since last autumn. At fifteen he no longer looked like a child. He was polite, but a little cool toward her on this visit. Electra could hardly blame him. The first time she had ever seen her brother was last summer. He had bravely insisted she was his long lost sister, and Electra had treated him with anger and suspicion. When she had finally agreed to meet her real parents, King Geoffrey and Queen Delphinia, both she and her brother had been captured on route to Fernland by Dagon of Helsop. The events following their capture had led finally to an engagement for Electra, but imprisonment and embarrassment for her brother. Avor had been incensed by Dagon's proposal of marriage to his sister. She wondered if Avor had forgiven her for agreeing to become engaged to Dagon. She decided it best not to speak of it and pretend all was well between them. Perhaps he was not the type to carry a grudge.
Electra moved closer to Avor and his friend, Lance, to join their conversation. "The Barburee men's command of our language is a little sparse. I hope an archery contest is what they intended," Electra said with a smile.
"I hope so, too," Lance said. "They have been cutting branches and whittling off the bark for the last hour. Maybe they're planning some sort of roasting over a pit instead."
"They have brought their horses. Maybe hunting is involved," Avor mused.
Lance shook his head. "We were told to bring our mounts as well. I believe we may be shooting our arrows from horseback."
Electra and Avor looked at Lance with stunned expressions.
"But how could one aim accurately from horseback?" Electra asked.
Lance shrugged. "That's the question, isn't it?"
They watched as the men from Barburee took their whittled sticks and walked to the far end of the archery field. They buried the wide bottoms of the branches in the ground several yards apart. The branches stood about five feet tall with the tips whittled down to a narrow width.
Batu Bataar shouted a few commands to the other Barburee men and then separated himself from the group. He carried a stick with him to the center of the field.
"Fernland archers, come! I show," he shouted.
Lance and his fellow archers ran onto the field and made a loose grouping around Bataar.
"Now, see game," Bataar announced to Fernland's gathered team.
Bataar stood a few feet from the stick and picked up his bow. He removed an arrow from the quiver which hung under his left arm. The arrow had a wide flat blade at the tip. He fit the arrow into the bow, took careful aim, and let fly. The blade of the arrow sliced cleanly through the top of the branch while the bottom remained stuck in the ground. As the tip of the severed branch flew up into the air, Bataar ran forward and grabbed it before it hit the ground.
The crowd applauded loudly as Bataar waved the tip of the branch triumphantly.
"You see how play?" he asked Fernland's archers.
"Yes, yes," they all cried, eager to match their skill against the Barburee visitors.
Barburee show now," Bataar continued. "Same game, now with horses."
The Barburee men had tied different colored strips of cloth on each of the branches. They now picked the six men who would be competing for Barburee and gave each a colored strip to match one of those tied on a branch. Bataar took a blue strip and tied it around his belt. Long Life Destroyer took a green strip and Rich Lion a red. Three of the men, who had accompanied the ambassadors as servants, were chosen to take the remaining colors. These last three suddenly looked more like warriors and less like servants.
The six men whistled shrilly for their horses. The six horses seemed to recognize their masters' whistles. Their ears swiveled and they stopped grazing to listen. All six horses took off at a trot toward their respective riders. The horses were dun colored, some with faint stripes. They were a short-legged, stocky breed with large heads and stiff bushy manes. They seemed unperturbed by the crowds.
The riders grabbed their horses' reins and turned them in the direction of the branch targets far down the field. They stood waiting beside their horses. Then, at a shout from Bataar, they all flung themselves into their saddles. With shouts of 'yaw wee' and 'choo', they screamed their way down the field at full gallop. The crowds at the edges of the field jumped back in fright as the riders crisscrossed in front of them, charging toward the branch wrapped in each man's matching color.
Bataar held his arrow between his teeth as he charged ahead of the others. He leaned to the side, gripping his horse with his thighs as he fit his arrow into his bow and let fly, seemingly without aiming. He shot from fifty feet away. The arrow sliced cleanly through the branch. He screamed 'choo, choo' and his horse galloped faster. Bataar leaned far out to the side of his horse gripping tightly with his legs, and caught the tip of the severed branch just before it hit the ground.
The crowd yelled, screamed, jumped up and down and kept cheering as Rich Lion shot his arrow from about twenty five feet away and caught the tip gracefully in mid air.
Long Life Destroyer looked disgusted when his branch tip did not sever completely and he was forced to strip it from the top of the stick. The other three riders managed to sever their branches, but only one caught the tip before it reached the ground.
The Barburee riders cantered back to the Fernland archers, who waited, awe-struck, for their turn. They congratulated the Barburee team while their own branches were prepared. Bataar took one loop around the field nodding at the cheering crowds and saluting the King and Queen. He stopped and dismounted in front of Princess Electra and Prince Avor.
Bataar grinned at Princess Electra. "Is good game?" he asked.
"Unbelievable," Electra said, laughing. "This is my brother Prince Avor. He is very keen on archery."
Bataar touched his forehead in greeting. "You not play game this day?"
Avor seemed in awe of Bataar. He struggled to find his voice. "Not today, but I would love to try it. Could you teach me more about it?"
Bataar seemed to consider it. "Need be young start for good play. You ride. I watch. Tomorrow. We see."
The Barburee men prepared for Fernland's archers by pulling out what remained of the old branches and sticking new ones in the ground at the end of the field. New strips of cloth were wound around the base of the branches and matching colors handed out to the Fernland competitors. The Fernland team gathered in the middle of t
he field, leading their horses behind them. The Barburee men laughed and joked as they handed out flat bladed arrows to the Fernland competitors. The Fernland men couldn't understand what the Barburee men were saying which was likely all to the good. Lance waved his arrow and blue strip of cloth in Prince Avor's direction. Prince Avor waved back with a whistle of encouragement.
The Fernland archers mounted their horses and with a shout from Long Life Destroyer, they took off down the field at a gallop. Things went downhill from there. One archer ran right into his branch at top speed, knocking it over as he struggled to fit his arrow into his bow.
Lance slowed his horse to take aim and managed to hit his branch, but the tip only bent over and he ended by pulling up the whole branch as he rode by. Nevertheless he had the best showing for Fernland and the crowd cheered him on. Avor pumped his fist in the air and yelled his encouragement. The Fernland archers took a lap around the field as Bataar had done and the crowd yelled "Fernland! Fernland!"
As the formal match drew to a close, any spectators with bows and arrows surged onto the field and the Royal Guard had to push them back to the sidelines to prevent them from accidently shooting one another. King Geoffrey and Queen Delphinia left their platform at the edge of the field to congratulate all the archers and to thank the Barburee men for their performance. They joined Avor and Electra as the crowd began to disperse.
Prince Avor, his excitement showing, told his father about the possibility of a lesson from Bataar. He did not notice his father's frown. Electra did notice and believed she knew at least one reason for the frown. Fernland was no match for Barburee if it came to war.
Chapter 13
Kingdom of Fernland
Take the Thief led Bear and Smiles to the dilapidated shed he called home. He stopped at the door to the shed and opened it carefully. The hinges on the door were badly rusted. A hard pull would likely jar them loose.
"So this 'ere's yer place?" Bear asked, looking around the shed that housed Take's cot and most of his magic show equipment.
"Home sweet home. You're welcome to bunk in here with me, now you're both part of the show. He waved his arm to include both Bear and Smiles.