Chapter Four #2
Glancing out the window to my side, I saw Avolire coming into view.
My gut tightened. Through winding streets we had ridden, the queen and Le’ral politely silent, their sight lowered to the floor or out the windows for the most part.
I did catch both staring at me. The queen with a pucker as if she had mouthed a lemon, and the grand advisor with a curious expression.
Both would nod when caught. Prescott hum-hum-horse’d all the way.
By the time the castle that rested atop a sheer cliff of dark stone wet by the sea spray came into view, even his humming had me chafed.
Instead of snapping at the poor sod, I stared at the castle.
Vast and impressive, the dark blue roof tiles were edged in gilt.
Mighty towers speared the bright blue sky.
Blue and white banners bearing the Melowynn coat of arms danced in the wild ocean wind.
“A sight to behold, is it not?” Le’ral enquired as we passed through one of the main gates. Guards lowered their heads, fists to chests, to honor the queen.
“It is larger than even I imagined, and my imagination is vivid,” I commented, thumbing some hair from my sweaty face. The odor of an overheated troll was now tickling my nose.
“It is a testament to Ihdos as well as the monarchy.” Le’ral looked cool as a glass of ice wine, even though his brow was dotted with perspiration.
“It has stood here above Celear since the first elven king of Melowynn had its cornerstone laid over ten thousand seasons ago. It was not the grand visage you see now, as many rulers have added to it over their reigns. At present, Avolire holds over forty sleeping chambers, four ballrooms, solariums, music rooms, sleeping quarters for staff and the royal guard. There is a shrine to Ihdos where the royal family may attend morning prayers. There is also the main cathedral at the ocean’s edge.
That is where those who have moved to join Ihdos in his eternal glory and search for intelligence are entombed. ”
“And to think I thought I was doing good owning a brothel,” I mumbled.
The queen raised a thin brow but said nothing.
Le’ral fought back a smile. I was desperate to ask about Aelir and the royal twins, but I was also loath to appear too interested.
I knew I shouldn’t give a whistle about any of them.
Surely this was all some hoax, or a misunderstanding, and within several nights I’d be in the dungeon awaiting trial. So yes, I would not ask.
“Brothels are always a money-making venture,” Le’ral answered with diplomacy. “We have several in town, four that are well known for the delicacy of the professionals who work there and three that have stage shows.”
“Stage shows?” I asked, wiggling free to lean closer, elbows to knees, as Le’ral watched me like a cat watching a mole. “Do they perform high elven operas?”
“Only a few, but they’re dreadfully dull. I have found the singers at the Willow Tree are much more exuberant in their performances.”
“Oh? And how exuberant are they?”
The queen, seemingly bored with being disgusted with me if that was what ailed her and I was sure it was, gave Prescott a quick peek before allowing the merest touch of amusement to pull at her pink lips.
“Quite. They act out the operas while wearing naught but wigs.”
Le’ral coughed discreetly into his hand. “Your Majesty, I am not sure that King Aelir would appreciate us telling an invited guest to the castle about the randy nature of the performers at the Willow Tree.”
“Le’ral, he is a pirate. He owns a brothel. I suspect he has slept with enough people to put the bawds to shame. With a face such as his, surely he is no innocent. Let us not forget we are not talking with the sisters of the steppes.”
I chuckled. “The queen is most astute. It would take more than a mere mention of a whore’s tats or cock on display to bring a rose to my cheeks.
” I winked at the advisor, who seemed to grow slightly ill at ease before gathering himself.
“As for the number of partners to grace my sheets, the number is high, yes, but they all leave well pleased.”
“That, good Captain, is commendable,” the queen said as we rattled under another arch into a small bailey.
Not the main doors to the palace, though.
Understandable. To be fair, if they snuck us into the servant’s entrance, I would not be shocked.
The slowing of the carriage brought a sigh of regret from Prescott.
He did enjoy riding and seeing new things.
“Ah, we are at the western side of the castle. This entrance is smaller. More discreet.”
Discreet. What a lovely term. Much nicer than saying we’re hiding you from the world as best we can. Which would have worked better if I’d not come into port with a red banner and then left with a peacock feather in my hat. Well, it was on Prescott’s large head now…
The door opened. A footman in crisp livery offered the queen a hand down. She exited, as did Le’ral, leaving Prescott and me wedged into our seat.
“If they go for my head while toting an ax, do smash a few of them into mince pudding, will you?” I whispered to Prescott and then fixed his—my—hat for him.
“Pudding. Plums!”
Wonderful. Now he would expect plum pudding for dessert. Prescott pushed out the door, startling a maid passing by carrying laundry so badly she screamed, dropped her bundle of wet sheets, and fainted.
A small melee of chaos took place with me once again assuring the castle staff this time that Prescott was a fine, genteel half troll in search of plum pudding and not femurs.
“Perhaps I should have insisted he stay in town.” I sighed as the big guy hoisted my trunk from the back of the carriage before settling it with care on his shoulder.
“I suspect once the staff all see him and spend time with him, they will realize he’s a gentle giant,” Raewyn said, motioning to a small set of stone stairs leading into the rear of the castle.
“Why don’t we get you and Prescott settled into your suites?
King Aelir is sitting with a small delegation from Kazakan who arrived without advance warning to discuss a blight that is souring their crops.
He wished to be here to greet you, but the envoys were most insistent. ”
“No, it’s fine,” I quickly said as Le’ral waited patiently by the stairs, his eyes moving over the hustle and bustle of a busy courtyard like a raptor watching a hay field for mice.
I was expecting to sit on my arse for days before Aelir could find time to even talk to me.
Knowing he had planned to meet me in person was…
humbling in a way. “We’ll get settled into our rooms and freshen up. ”
“Lovely. I shall turn you over to Le’ral to show you to your rooms. I would like to speak to the head cleric with all due haste to see if we have enough serum to treat the afflicted in Light’s Keep.”
“Please, yes, Your Majesty, see to that,” I said, bowing deeply as she waved Le’ral over before heading off with her ever-present guard.
Prescott stood behind me humming. The few staff brave enough to come outside kept a wide berth from me and my protector.
When I turned, Le’ral was smiling gently at me.
With a wave of his hand that set his half cape fluttering, he called to us.
“If you are ready to freshen up?”
I nodded as the sun warmed my head. “Then follow me, please.”
We began the climb into Avolire. The western door was large, solid wood, overseen by two guards who stared up at Prescott with worry in their eyes. “This evening, after your meeting with the king and a light repast in the king’s solar, I can give you the grand tour of Avolire if you so wish?”
“Please, that would be…” I paused as we exited a slim hall that led to a magnificent spiral staircase of solid white stone so highly buffed it made my eyes water.
“Amazing,” I whispered as a pair of young boys stopped in their tracks, buckets of ash in their hands, to gawk at me and Prescott before darting off like frightened hares.
“Shiny,” Prescott said from behind.
“The queen’s postern was used for many seasons by the second queen of Melowynn, Her Majesty Lillith Eldenshar, wife of Flinar Eldenshar.
She insisted on having an entrance for herself and her ladies’ maids to avoid the glare of the sun on the main entrance.
You may view Queen Eldenshar in the gallery of queens at the top of the stairs if you wish.
It sits next to the newly redecorated Stillcloud gallery. ”
Our boots rang out as we climbed the stairs, golden sconces on the walls holding newly lit candles lighting the way, even though the sun poured through a window of stained glass the size of my sloop.
An elven maid facing a dragon was depicted on the colorful panes casting us in blue, green, and red as we moved higher up the stairs.
“The maiden depicted in the window is the fifth queen of Melowynn, the last of our people to speak with dragons. Or, well, so it was thought. Now that young Beiro has returned to Celear with a wyrmling bonded to him, we may have to rethink a good many things.”
“What will you do with a full-grown ice dragon?” I asked, as it seemed pertinent.
“That, my brave captain, is a question even I have no answer to. Seems your fine vessel has brought many a surprise to our shores.” He glanced back, dark eyes touching on me, before his attention returned to the tale of the maid and the dark blue dragon.
Once we reached the riser, I paused, my gaze roaming down vast corridors lined with doors, open galleys where the warm sea winds blew in to rustle thick tapestries. “Your suites are down this way.”
“You mentioned a Stillcloud gallery?” Why this sudden need to see old oils of wrinkled elven women and men dripping in gold and jewels had overcome me, I couldn’t say, but I needed to see if she was in there.