The Lost Realm (22 page)

“You abandoned a baby?” said Lady Vicerin.

Captain Leom glared at her, the new brightness in his eyes turning briefly to fire. “Given what the Helkrags would have done to him, it was the only choice I had.”

Tarlan
, Elodie thought.
This is Tarlan's story. He still has that cloak!

One glance across the table informed her that Sylva had made the connection too. Lord Vicerin was shifting uneasily, his brow starting to glisten through the powder.

No wonder you're worried. What would happen if Leom found out you kept Tarlan prisoner here?

“The Helkrags captured me. They . . . they tortured me, forcing me to give up my ranger knowledge: knowledge of hidden paths, of the secret alliances between rival tribes. How to survive the Yalasti winter, which normally forces even men like themselves into hiding.”

“How did you escape?” Lord Vicerin's eyes darted around the room. Elodie knew that, with so many people watching and listening, he had to keep up a semblance of politeness. She suspected that all he wanted to do was run Leom through with a sword. “After a long time, the Helkrags moved me from the cave to an ice fort. We hadn't been there long before they had some kind of squabble with a rival tribe who'd killed a thorrod. The squabble turned into a full-blown battle. In the chaos, I managed to steal a sword and fight my way to freedom. . . .”

Captain Leom's voice trailed off. He turned his head up to the ceiling and half raised one of his shaking hands.

“I saw a boy. I saw a boy rising up out of the burning fort. He was flying, riding on a thorrod, and flanked by two others. His hair was red-gold, just like the baby I'd left in the woods, all those years before. And I knew it was him. Don't ask me how. I just knew.”

Captain Leom lowered his hand again. His audience listened in silence.

“I tracked the thorrods as best I could. But I lost the trail in the Icy Wastes. Still I forged on, and now here I am in Ritherlee. Lord Vicerin, you were ever an ally of the good-hearted, and no friend to King Brutan. That is why I come to you now, for succor and shelter. For a chance to regain my strength and pick up the boy's trail once more. He is the future king, you see, and he will need good men to stand beside him in the fight to come.”

These last words came out in a kind of gasp. As he spoke them, Captain Leom staggered sideways, and his face drew down in a rictus of pain.

“Fetch him a chair,” said Lady Vicerin. “Before he falls over. And something to drink.”

Lord Vicerin snapped his fingers. A servant brought an ornate golden chair and deposited it immediately behind the hulking, fur-clad captain. Leom sat with a grunt, scattering dirt and smearing grime on the chair's fine velvet cushions.

Elodie wanted to cry out to him, to tell him that the boy really had been Tarlan, that the baby he'd saved was alive and well, and back with the wizard Melchior. But doing so would betray her true allegiance.

Maybe later I can speak to him alone. Not now.

A second servant handed Captain Leom a goblet, but the man's trembling fingers betrayed him before he could take a drop. The goblet fell to the floor, spilling the wine it had contained. Nobody moved to help him.

Elodie couldn't contain herself. Springing to her feet, she grabbed another goblet from the table and took it to Captain Leom. Holding it gently to his lips, she helped him drink. Half the wine soaked into his bushy beard, but the rest went into his mouth.

He nodded his thanks. Then his gaze fell on Elodie's hair. He stared, his eyes slowly widening.

“Can it be true?” he said at last. “Are you . . . ? Have I lost one of the three only to find another?”

Something cold wrapped itself around Elodie's fingers. It was Lord Vicerin's hand. It took all her willpower not to recoil.

“It is true,” said Lord Vicerin smoothly. “We take great care to protect our princess. Is that not so, Elodie, my dear?”

“Yes, Father,” Elodie replied through gritted teeth.

Her revulsion increased as Lord Vicerin brought his lips close to her ear. “Forgive me, my child,” he whispered so only she could hear. His breath was unspeakably hot and damp. “It appears that at least one of your brothers is still alive. Your place as queen is assured, naturally, but we will endeavor to find the boy and keep him safe. Just as we keep you safe.”

Elodie couldn't speak, so she just nodded and gave him what she hoped was a meek-looking smile.

“Your story is a remarkable one, Captain Leom,” said Lord Vicerin, stepping away from Elodie and pitching his voice so that the whole room could hear. “And you are a remarkable man. I am glad you have come to seek sanctuary at Castle Vicerin, and I will do everything in my power to find this lost boy.”

“Thank you, my lord,” said Captain Leom, bowing his head.

“This boy,” Lord Vicerin went on. “Yes, this lost boy. I worry about his fate. Certainly there have been no sightings of such a boy in Ritherlee, nor of these three thorrods—such birds certainly could not be missed, even by the most dull-eyed lookout!”

The other diners chuckled knowingly at this. Elodie guessed that at least half of them must have known he was lying. Lord Vicerin drank in the appreciation with a shrug and a wave. Elodie resisted the urge to kick him in the shins.

“As a mark of my respect for you, Captain Leom, I propose a rescue mission. It will leave for Yalasti immediately, first to defeat these barbaric Helkrags, and second to pick up the boy's trail. We have our princess. Soon we will also have our prince!”

This provoked cheers from the audience and a grateful smile from the weary Captain Leom. But Elodie could only wonder at the speed with which Lord Vicerin had switched from unguarded suspicion of this travel-worn guest to wholehearted support of his cause.

And puzzle over the fact that none of what he'd just said made any sense.

You've only just brought me back from the forests of Isur. You know that Tarlan must still be somewhere up there. So why send men to Yalasti? What are you really up to, Vicerin?

W
e're leaving,” said Gulph. “Right now.”

Ossilius regarded him, bleary-eyed. “What's the matter, Gulph? It's the middle of the night.”

“There's no night in Celestis and you know it.”

“The clock says it is time to sleep. Go back to bed, Gulph.”

The clock stood on the other side of the dormitory they shared, a delicate construction of pipes and pulleys. Silver water dripped steadily into little waterwheels, which spun to power a slowly turning needle that marked off the hours.

According to the water clock, it was the middle of the night. But outside the window there was only the same drab twilight in which Celestis was perpetually smothered.

“I can't sleep. Ossilius, my friends are up there in Idilliam. Brutan's got them in his clutches, I know it. I've got to help them.”

Ossilius propped himself up. He poured himself a goblet of wine from the jug on the nightstand and sipped it slowly, rubbing his eyes. “She says we must stay. The woman. What is her name again?”

“Lady Redina? I don't care what she says. If we can rescue the others and bring them down here, she'll have to let them stay. It would be too cruel to turn them away.”

Ossilius frowned. “Remind me who these friends of yours are again, Gulph.”

“Wake up, Ossilius! I'm talking about the Tangletree Players. Surely you haven't”—he stared at his friend, comprehension slowly dawning—“forgotten?”

The blank look on Ossilius's face told him everything he needed to know.

“You don't remember them, do you?” Gulph said dully.

“Remember who?” Ossilius drained his goblet and poured himself another. “Won't you take a drink, Gulph? It's really very mild.”

“Never mind the wine . . .” Gulph began to say, then stopped. Understanding crashed down on him like an avalanche. “The wine!”

He knocked the goblet from Ossilius's hand. It flew across the dormitory, spraying red wine across the floor, and landed with a clatter in the far corner.

“Don't drink it! It's poison!”

Ossilius's eyes were dull. “What are you talking about? It tastes very fine.”

“Never mind what it tastes like! I'm the only one who hasn't touched that stuff, and I'm the only one who hasn't started forgetting!” Gulph grabbed the jug and tipped the contents into the washstand, the liquid gurgling away. “Ossilius, you can't drink another drop. If you do, you'll never want to go home again.”

Ossilius gave him a quizzical look. “But I am home.”

“No.” Gulph shook his head, denying not only Ossilius's words but the whole dreadful mess. “You've got to come with me. Let's go now. By the time we get to Idilliam, your memory will have come back.”

I hope so, anyway.

“I'm tired,” said Ossilius. “You must be too. Stop imagining things and go back to bed. Everything will seem clearer in the morning.”

Gulph was about to protest, then thought better of it. “All right, Ossilius. Maybe that's for the best.”

He crossed the dormitory to his bed. But he didn't get under the covers, just sat there, waiting. When Ossilius began to snore, Gulph picked up the bundle of clothes and food he'd gathered together earlier, and tiptoed out of the room.

First I'll find my friends
, he thought.
Then I'll come back for you and Sidebottom John. My mother, too.

Outside the house, he paused to check his bundle was wrapped tightly enough. On one side he'd improvised a pouch to hold his crown. As he touched its gold rim, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.

What if they make me undead? What if Brutan gets his hands on the crown again?

But he couldn't leave it here. It was part of him now.

Where the crown goes, I go.

Gulph crept along the path toward the lake. He was confident he could steal a boat without anyone seeing.
If I have to, I'll just turn myself invisible.
But what about when he'd paddled it to the crystal column that supported the ceiling? Climbing the column was one thing; reaching the crack through which he and his companions had fallen was quite another.

I'll be hanging upside down, like a spider. And if I lose my grip . . .

He shivered as he remembered his plummet into the cold water, how he'd nearly drowned as he fought his way to the surface. He realized now how lucky they'd been to be picked up so quickly by the couple in the boat. If they'd stayed in the water much longer, they might have encountered something far more dangerous.

The bakaliss!

He reached the shore. The silver water stretched before him, a smooth mirror reflecting the scintillating purple of the crystal ceiling. It looked as beautiful as it was perilous.

Several narrow-hulled boats were moored nearby. Gulph was halfway to the nearest one when a cloaked figure advanced out of the shadows. He backtracked, but the figure darted forward with uncanny speed and grabbed his elbow.

With a toss of its head, the figure threw back its hood, revealing a familiar scarred face and mane of red-gold hair.

“Mother!” he blurted.

“Don't call me that,” said Kalia. “And what are you doing here? The lake is dangerous.”

“I . . . I couldn't sleep. I thought a walk might help.”

“You are lying.” His mother's tone was matter-of-fact. “I am not surprised you want to leave Celestis. Your friends are in danger and you want to help them. I understand. You are brave—I saw that when you were faced with the undead ones. You will need that bravery if you are to defy the command of Lady Redina.”

“How do you . . . ?”

“Hush. We have things to discuss, but not here. Come with me.”

“But I . . .”

“Come.”

Gulph followed her wordlessly as she led him along the shore to a small house made of yellow crystal. He felt confused and thrilled in equal measure. How did she know so much about him? Could he trust her? What did she want to talk about?

Shining through all these dark doubts was a single, brilliant thought:

She's my mother!

Kalia's home was small and cramped. Candles burned in alcoves set into the walls. The crystal magnified their light, so that the whole interior was filled with a cascade of flaming yellow. More alcoves contained jars and bottles. In the middle of the floor, a small black cauldron hung over the embers of a fire. It was half-full of a thick, green broth.

The home of a witch!

Kalia busied herself with the fire, adding more kindling and blowing on the embers until fresh flames burst forth. She seemed to have forgotten Gulph was there.

“Uh, what did you want to talk about?” he said at last.

“Be patient,” the witch replied.