Dangerous Secrets (97 page)

‶
His last night?″

‶
How melancholy to think of it
so! I had come back from the taverna...I had been spending the nights there of
late. But I wanted a change of robe. The servants were huddled in the kitchen
and we could hear the king laughing. We thought perhaps he′d finally gone
quite mad...well, you understand.″″Yes. Go on.″

‶
But when he came down, he was
cheerful, quite his old self. He pinched a girl′s cheek, drank wine with
me, and asked after the boy. I told him that Temas was standing to the duty
he′d been set, warning away the ships, and the king laughed and said
there would be no more need of that. I thought he′d found a way to rid
ourselves of the creature but he seemed not to regard it as important.″

‶
No?″

‶
He dismissed it with a wave of
his hand...like that.″ He showed me, a careless wiggle of his fingers.
‶
Then
he drained another cup of wine and said he had some work to finish before the
night was through. I asked him what it was he was doing but he only touched his
finger to his lips and dashed away upstairs.″ He sighed.
‶
That′s
the last time I saw him alive.″

I walked on in silence, my mind busy with a
thousand questions. What had the king been working on and had he achieved his
goal? I could not think what other reason there might be his being in such
merry spirits. Had he′d learned from Orpheus′ mistakes and tried to
retrieve his adored wife from the Underworld in another way? Such efforts are
doomed. People don′t return from the other side of the River Styx. We are
given the water of forgetfulness and leave this world behind forever. It is one
of the hardest lessons we mortals have to accept.

Had the king opened a door into the Darkness
Beyond? If so, Nausicaa must have helped him but why? To bring back Amymone?
That did not fit with her dying words...if her words they had been. Someone
else wanted to come into this world and rule it but it hadn′t sounded
like a gentle and musical woman. It had sounded like a monster, a monster with
many children, and if it could make the dead walk, perhaps it came from
somewhere that had a lot of dead people. But was that door closed for good, now
that both the king and Nausicaa were dead?

I doubted it. The tools had been disposed of
but you only drop tools when you don′t need them, when the work is
finished.

Perhaps I had one answer. If the king and
Nausicaa had been meddling in matters of life and death, the Gods would punish
that trespass without mercy. They′d sent a harpy to harry similar
criminals before this, often. But I couldn′t reconcile that explanation
with the beauty of the creature I′d seen asleep in the tree. When the
Gods send a punishment, there is no mistaking it for anything else.

***

Without Nausicaa’s steadying hand, the Palace
staff were utterly confused as to what should be done next. Not even the death
of the king had been so confounding. A king may run a kingdom but a good
housekeeper runs the king.

The little one who had brought me a cloak
before I’d followed Nausicaa was doing her best. Her hair was coming down in
wisps, dirt smudged both cheeks, but she gave orders crisply. Little Iole, who
hardly came up to my elbow, organized two girls to wash our feet though the
water was cold.

“I beg your pardon, lord,” Iole said, her voice
clogged with tears. “The fire went out last night and the tinder did not
light.”

“It’s a curse!” someone howled in the kitchen.

Iole flinched. “If you will overlook this
fault, please?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Phandros said before I
could give her chin another chuck. “Cold or hot is unimportant. I feel the same
about food. So long as it is plentiful.″

“I prefer it hot, though,” I added. “But fast
is best of all.”

“Yes, my lord. This way, my lord.”

I don’t know when I was raised to the nobility
in her eyes but I followed her into the kitchen. There was food on the table,
left there from a dinner no one had eaten. A cat walked daintily across the
tabletop, browsing at leisure among the plates. Iole swept in, scooping it up,
and cuddling it close to her thin bosom.

“Heat this up,” she said to one of the other
girls, handing her a plate of cold mutton. “Isn’t the porridge ready yet?”

“It’s cursed! Cuuuurrrsssed, I tell you! I’ve
been watching it and watching it but it won’t boil!” screeched a crone nearest
the fire. The leaping light showed her broken teeth in a cackling smile. There
is always someone pleased by chaos and disaster. It confirms everything bad
that they believe about the world.

“Yum,″ I said.
‶
Cursed porridge. My
favorite. Does it have raisins in it? If it doesn’t, then it’s just mildly
unlucky porridge and that’s not nearly so tasty.”

Iole smiled, her lips trembling as if she’d
sooner weep. “We are like scattered reeds this morning, my lord.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I saw that Phandros was
already digging in, a plate of honey-cakes held close to his chin. I wanted
something more substantial so reached for the sliced pork. After dredging it in
a little savory sauce, I didn’t mind the toughness. Even the wine,
well-watered, tasted better when I was really thirsty.

“How’s the prince...how’s King Temas this
morning?”

Phandros had to get his beard unstuck from his
mouth before he could speak so little Iole got in first. “After he came back
last night, he started going through all his father’s notes and papers. He’s up
there now,” she added, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. “Where it all
happened.”

“You’ve worked in the Palace for a while?”

“Since I was a child, my lord.”

“And you’re such an old lady now, of course.”

The crone cackled again and dished up some
glutinous mess from a pot. I am pretty sure even lentil porridge isn’t supposed
to be green, at least not that color green, shiny and greasy like a wound
turning bad. Nor, I am sure, is it supposed to suck at the spoon with a sound
like questionable digestion.

I decided I’d had enough to eat and invited
Phandros to come talk to Temas with me. He eyed the porridge as well. “Yes, I
think that’s the wisest course”

“Just like a man,” the crone screeched. “Ask
for something special and then turn his nose up at it!”

“Don’t be like that, Grandmother,” Iole said.
“I’m sure they’re just full of other things.”

“You said it, sweetie, not me!”

***

The choking smell of cold ashes filled my nose
as I entered the upstairs room. Seeing Temas there, squatting in nearly the
same spot where his father had died seemed a dangerous omen. Phandros
apparently agreed.

“Come away, my king,” he said, standing over
the boy. “This is no place for you.”

Temas’ eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed. He
rubbed them hurriedly, removing traces of tears. “I’m going over a few papers.”

There were heaped up scrolls just beyond him.
“Anything interesting?” I asked, jerking open the curtains. I saw that the one
I’d ripped hadn’t been repaired yet.

“Yes, quite a bit. Of course, I can’t read all
of it. I think there’s some Egyptian here and maybe some Chaldean characters as
well.”

The fresh air drove off the memories. Temas, blinking
in the sunlight, seemed less the eldritch inheritor of an black fate and more a
young man with an air of responsibility that sat oddly on his shoulders.
Remembering my youthful visits from the Hangover God, I could sympathize. He
stood up like an old man, all hinges and creaks.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, fulfilling his duty
to a guest. Or was I his servant? Heroes for hire occupy a strange half-world
when it comes to etiquette. Still, Temas was a gentleman.

“Yes. Have you?”

A slight tint of pale green washed into his
complexion. “There was this cold porridge....”

“Yeah, I saw it. I think I would rather face
those things from last night again than eat that.”

The boy hastened to the balcony, the same that
I had found so useful for the same purpose. After a few distressing minutes,
the king called me.

“Sire?” I stepped out to join him.

“I think you’d better tell me what did happen
last night. There are some very strange tales flying about and I must know the
truth of what I myself saw.”

“These scrolls are most interesting,” the
scholar said, appearing in the doorway. “If I may study them further?”

Temas nodded his permission. “But stay and
listen to what Eno has to say. The incidents of last night are so peculiar that
I can hardly accept all I saw myself.”

Phandros’ cool eyes studied me. “I have no
doubt, sire, that Eno the Thracian comported himself entirely in your
interests. There are strange portents and powers at work in this land but they
will never overcome men of valor. I will study these papers and guard the way
so you may speak freely and without interruption.”

I felt as if someone had hung a golden chain
around my neck. On the one hand, I was grateful for the compliments, which I
felt Phandros did not hand out like sprigs of mint on a festival day. On the
other hand, however, I now felt even more closely bound to the King of Leros
and his problems. Even if I’d wanted to, how could I sail away without
satisfying the terms of my contract?

After I filled him in on all the details of
last night’s adventures, reserving only my discovery of the harpy’s nest and my
guesses about his father, Temas stood swaying in the sunlight, his hands
pressed to his eyes. “We are cursed, indeed. How can such things be?”

“We live in a time of mysteries,” I said, not
wanting to share my surmises till I had a chance to think things through. “The
Gods work their will as they see fit.”

“What God could do such horrible things? What I
saw last night...the pity of their faces, faces I knew well. My father. Those
guards, men I knew and fenced with. And the poor women.”

‶
It′s over now, my lord.
Whatever caused it won′t happen again.″

‶
How can you be sure? If they
walk again tonight, everyone will leave the island. I might as well abandon the
palace to Eurytos right now.″

‶
Nausicaa is dead. It was
working through her, whatever it was, and that doorway is shut.
Permanently.″

“I pray so. What will you do now?”

I rubbed my bristly chin thoughtfully and
caught myself starting to scratch. “I’d like a bath and a shave. Then I should
pay a visit to my friends waiting in the harbor.”

“I’ll go with you. If I and my household must
flee...”

“Oh, Jori will take you, for a price.” I should
have told him then, I suppose, that I’d seen the harpy, that I had a feather
from it on my person, and that I knew where it nested. I knew I should and even
got so far as opening my mouth when I noticed Temas looking at me with extra
intensity in his young eyes.

“Do you...do you think I should grow a beard?”

In the bright morning light there gleamed the
faintest hint of down on the young king’s chin. Remembering back to my own
chest-bursting pride in that first public sign of manhood, I pretended to
ponder the question. “That’s something each man must answer for himself.”

“You don’t choose to wear one?”

“I fight for my living, sire,” I explained. “I
don’t care to give my enemies something easily grasped. It’s why I clip my hair
close as a sheered sheep.” I ran my hand over the short growth, just long
enough to show black. “Besides, have you noticed how men with beards scratch
all the time?”

I mimed with both hands a thorough scratch of
jawline and chin. “Like a dog scratching after fleas. Or a man digging for
gold.”

Temas grinned and pointed discreetly past my
shoulder. I turned to see Phandros in the room beyond, enjoying a vigorous
scrubbing with both hands among the thicket on the lower slopes of his face. He
looked up and smiled in answer to our laughter without knowing the cause.

Temas turned back to me. “I suppose it’s as my
father was fond of saying,
‵
as bad as things are, they could always be worse. At
least it isn’t raining.′” Seeing that I didn’t understand, he shrugged.
“It was just something he used to say in bad times. It didn’t make much sense
during droughts though.”

“One day you’ll say it to your sons.”

“Yes, I suppose. I imagine they’ll roll their
eyes and make faces just as I did. Now I’d give anything to hear him say it one
more time.”

I didn’t want to see him grow melancholy once
again. “You know,” I said, ”it won’t matter what you decide about a beard. When
you marry, it’s your wife that will choose for you.”

“I don’t think so.” Temas said confidently.

“Oh, believe me. If she says it itches, you’ll
shave it off quick enough. And if she says it tickles, you’ll grow it to your
knees if she likes it that way.”

He chuckled, somewhat sadly. “You remind me. My
father had a list of suitable king’s daughters. We discussed my marrying often
before he grew so changed. I wonder where it has gotten to?” He turned and went
inside. “Phandros, have you seen that list?”

I inhaled a great bushel of morning air and let
it out in a long sigh. Though I′d spoken confidently to Temas, I was
worried. I ran through all the rumors I’ve heard lately. Business is proving to
be good for a lot of us independent heroes. I hadn’t thought much of it, except
the money side of things of course, but now I wondered what was really going
on.

Working outside the usual parameters of ‘I hear
and obey’ had been a good move for me. But there were factors involved in going
independent that you don’t understand until you are thigh-deep in new troubles.
Just getting the dents beaten out of armor could eat up half my profits, or did
until I bought a second-hand anvil. The vendor had thrown in half-a-dozen
smithing lessons for free.