Dexter of Pozzelby

  “What are you doing with it?” I asked.

  “I am...sending a message to Earmund,” he answered.

  It seemed to me that he had hesitated slightly and I wondered why, but said nothing—it might have just been my imagination.

  Francis carried the bird to the window and released it. We watched as it swooped down, caught a breeze, and then flew away to the south.

  “Shouldn’t it head east to get to Earmund?”

  “It’s a bird,” he said with a hint of irritation. “Birds tend to be a little flighty, but it will get there.

  “So what brings you here? It is a big day for you, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know, I just needed see you, to talk to someone familiar,” I said. “I’m feeling overwhelmed by all of this king business. I mean, half of the time I still can’t accept that they’re all dead. Then it hits me like a wave. I must have cried for nearly an hour last night before I fell asleep. My father would not have approved.”

  “It is natural to grieve. If you feel like crying, then cry. It is nothing to be ashamed of. I can tell you this, your mind and body won’t let you feel more grief than you can bear. I’ve lost many people in my lifetime. Grief will come, like you said, in waves. One will wash over you and when it becomes too much, it will recede into numbness. With time the waves will be less frequent and not as strong.”

  I nodded, thinking about what he had said.

  “Will you be coming to the coronation?”

  “I would not miss it for anything. Dexter, I know that you are young and still lack experience. But you have an excellent mind. Do not underestimate yourself. You will be a good king. But it is not something that you will learn all at once and you will probably make mistakes along the way. As long as you learn from them, it is perfectly alright. Until you learn the job, the castle staff can keep most things running pretty smoothly.”

  “I guess. I’m going to need a lot of help.”

  “Fine. Now how about something to relax you? I found a chessboard last night while I was rummaging around.”

  I smiled.

  “Let’s play.”

  Francis opened with Seloni’s Gambit. I countered with the Bagwar Defense. For the next half hour I was able to forget everything that had been troubling me.

  “There you are!” said a voice from the door. I looked up and saw Tayu standing there. Despite her sharp tone, she did not look angry. “King Dexter, your coronation is in four hours and here you are hiding in the Gardener’s Tower. We have a lot that needs to be done before the ceremony.”

  “That’s why I was hiding in the tower.”

  “Yes, certainly,” Francis said. “We’ll call this one a draw.”

  “Okay,” I said, even though I had mate in four moves. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Actually,” said Tayu, “I wanted to tell both of you that the bodies of the king, ex-king I mean, and King Dexter’s family arrived just before first light. Do either of you wish to see them before they are prepared for the pyre?”

  I felt a lump form in my throat. I was torn. I did not really wish to see the corpses of my family, but I felt as though perhaps I should. Was it cowardly to not want to see them? Tayu and Francis were both waiting for me to speak.

  “Do I have to see them now? Or can I wait until the ceremony?”

  Francis laid his hand on my shoulder. “It is perfectly acceptable to wait,” he said. “You go with Tayu.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Wait, just one moment,” Francis said. He went to a shelf where he had unpacked his things and removed a metal flask. “It occurred to me that we do not know from which direction danger might come. This potion neutralizes poisons. Sprinkle a tiny amount onto anything you eat or into anything you might drink. A small amount, about a thimble full, will do. Then wait about twenty seconds for it to work. If there is no poison it will evaporate; you will taste nothing. However, if it comes into contact with any sort of poison you will see a small amount of smoke, usually red. Don’t be alarmed. This is more efficient than a food taster, and safer for the taster. Let me know if you run out.”

  I put the flask into my pocket and thanked him again.

  ****

  The coronation was a small ceremony that took place in a big room. Because of the fear generated by the attacks, only about thirty people were in attendance. The ceremony was taking place in the throne room, which I understood was one of the largest rooms in that portion of the castle that was in use. It seemed like a vast waste of space for a group of people that I could have fit in the front room of my suite.

  It was all I could do to remain upright as I slowly made my way across the open room in the oversized, curly-toed shoes. I felt very much like a colorful turkey. No one else had on a costume half as outlandish as the one that I was being forced to wear. The shirts were heavy. The fur was scratchy. And the tights were making me itch in some less than regal places.

  I could not wait for the ceremony to be over.

  I saw Francis standing near the throne with Porknoy and Myrick and was somewhat comforted. Brin was there as well. She was impossible to miss, wearing a black, pointed hat that was nearly as tall as she was, white pancake makeup on her face, and a black, purple, and red robe that trailed six feet behind her and had arms that hung at least a foot beyond her fingertips.

  I approached the dais on which the throne sat. Carefully, I climbed the stairs to where Geldan, the local high priest of Sigmenni, waited for me. I had been introduced to the high priest just before the ceremony and had liked him—he had an easy manner that put one at ease.

  “The Kingdom of Pozzelby is without a head,” Geldan began. “The land and the people require one of noble spirit and courageous heart to come forth and take up the Torch of Leadership.”

  A golden wand appeared in Geldan’s left hand. The tip suddenly ignited with a warm, greenish flame.

  “Dexter of the House of Davin, come forward.”

  Despite not feeling terribly courageous of heart at the moment, I took a step forward.

  “Dexter Davin, do you have the courage to take the Torch of Leadership, knowing that if you are not worthy, the flames will burn you?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  Geldan passed me the torch. It was smooth and cool in my hand. I did not seem to be on fire—so far, so good.

  “Behold, he has taken the torch and is not burned. Now you must recite your lineage and prove your noble right. Speak only the truth or the flame will be extinguished,” Geldan spoke.

  I cleared my throat. “I am Dexter of the House of Davin, son of Alden, who was brother to Ardwulf II, who was the son of Ardwulf the Elder, who was the son of Barlon...”

  I knew the list by heart; my father had made me learn it years ago. It took only a few minutes to recite my lineage back to King Coenbrand. When I finished, the wand was still burning.

  “Let all here be witness to Dexter’s courage and nobility,” said Geldan. “Now, light the braziers with the flame.”

  On either side of the steps that led to the throne there was a great, bronze brazier. I touched the flame to the coals of the first, and the green fire ignited it instantly. I lit the second brazier. Immediately after I did, the wand’s flame went out. I saw that the end of the wand was beautifully carved and wrapped in silver threads and encrusted with many small jewels.

  “Dexter Davin, kneel before me now and become king,” Geldan told me.

  I knelt. I was acutely aware of all the eyes that were upon me and the solemnity of the moment. I tried to ignore the persistent itching of my tights. I felt a small trickle of sweat run down the center of my back. It was very warm, kneeling between two burning braziers while wearing five shirts and a fur robe.

  Francis stepped forward. He was carrying a small, satin pillow on which a crown sat—my crown.

  It was platinum, slender and elegant. It contained only f
our jewels: a white diamond, a blue sapphire, a violet garnet, and a large opal whose colors seemed to shift constantly. I vaguely recalled reading that the crown had been a gift from the dwarves of the Blue Mountains and was close to one thousand years old.

  Geldan removed the crown from the pillow and stood over me.

  “Dexter Davin, do you accept the Crown of Pozzelby and all of the duties and obligations that accompany it?”

  “I do.”

  Geldan placed the crown onto my head. I was surprised by its light weight. I had always thought the crown would be heavy. I remained where I was while Geldan said a blessing. When he finished, the High Priest stepped toward those assembled.

  “Behold your new king! Long live King Dexter!”

  The assemblage knelt—mostly. Brin remained as she was in the back, looking around curiously. Francis caught my eye and gestured with his head toward the throne. I stood up and approached it. The throne was carved wood covered in gold leaf and purple velvet. It was also very large. When I sat on it, my feet did not quite touch the floor.

  “Err, maybe we can arrange for something not so big, or a stool?” I muttered.

  No one seemed to hear me. When I sat, they stood.

  “Long live Dexter,” they shouted. “Long live the king!”

  ****

  Unbeknownst to me, most of the town of Dunlevy and all of the castle’s residents who had not been invited to the coronation had assembled outside of what is called the King’s Tower. This is where the king generally addresses his subjects, makes speeches, and such. There was a moderately low balcony just for that purpose. The first anyone told me about it was when Tayu and Layred Vu were leading me up the stairs.

  “You just need to address your subjects now and then you can get ready for tonight’s celebratory reception,” Tayu said casually.

  “Good, and you had better not tell me that I have to wear this outfit to dinner. Wait...what was the first thing you said?”

  “Address your subjects. There are about three thousand of them waiting to see their new king,” she said.

  “Three thousand? I don’t know what to say to three thousand people!”

  “Then just wave. Here we are.”

  Layred Vu opened the door and half shoved me out. In their defense both Tayu and the castellan stepped out with me, staying to the rear of the balcony. I looked down on a great throng of people about thirty feet below me. There was some cheering when they saw me, but a fair amount of laughter and loud discourse as well. These were the townspeople mostly. I was sure that they were comparing me to my uncle and finding me lacking. Not knowing what else to do, I took Tayu’s advice and started waving.

  “Hello. How do you do?” I said inanely, waving and waving.

  I saw one small child on her father’s back wave back to me.

  “Okay, thanks for coming everyone. Umm, I have to be going now. Thank you.” Red-faced, I turned and walked back into the tower.

  “Perfect,” said Tayu, laughing slightly.

  “Yes, not so hard was it?” asked Layred Vu.

  I remained silent. I just needed to get out of those tights. I was grateful when I realized that we were heading to my suite. Running in, I tore off the fur robe and the five shirts and the tights, the hated tights.

  And then I scratched.

  It wasn’t until then that I looked around to make certain that Brin wasn’t in the room. It was clear so I scratched some more.

  The reception that evening was busy and well-attended. There was juggling, music, and a recital by the royal poet, Augin Dan. I had no idea that I had a royal poet and that he was Augin Dan, but I was pleased to learn it as I had once read a small volume of Dan’s poems and had found them quite good. In person, he seemed a bit withdrawn and somewhat dramatic. I supposed that those were common qualities in poets.

  Francis and Myrick never strayed far from my side. Nor, for that matter, did Tabor Till. I saw Brin’s pointy hat pop up in various parts of the room. And once I picked out Doctor Ahem by his tall, yellow hat. By dessert, I was yawning.

  “Good turnout, wouldn’t you say?” I said to Layred Vu at one point, for lack of anything better to say.

  “Yes, Sire. But this will likely be small compared to the royal reception with the nobility.”

  “What’s that?”

  “As an incoming king, you are expected to hold a grand reception for all of the nobles in Pozzelby. The receptions typically last several days at a minimum as everyone wants an audience with the new king. Of course, if we still have assassins on the loose, the attendance may be a little lighter than usual.”

  “When are we supposed to have this reception?”

  “It takes a while to get out all of the invitations and get back responses. Probably not in less than two months.”

  “Good. I’ve never cared much for parties.”

  “We’ll work with you. A big part of a king’s job is diplomacy. And a lot of diplomacy involves entertaining. Tonight, you can relax though. Nothing else is expected from you.”

  “Thank the gods,” I whispered.

  ****

  I spent most of the next morning receiving instruction in swordsmanship from Porknoy. Myrick had said that he wished to handle my instruction, but, true to his word, he had left Pozzelby Castle just after the reception to begin his investigation. Not knowing when Myrick would return, Porknoy took it on himself to teach me. It went well. Porknoy was a very capable swordsman and was infinitely patient with me. I am afraid that my change in locale did not improve my skills.

  “You’re trying too hard,” Porknoy said at one point. “You need to think of the sword as an extension of your body.”

  “But the rest of my body isn’t very coordinated either,” I protested.

  Still, he worked on the basics with me and when we were through, Porknoy assured me that I wasn’t completely hopeless.

  “You’re still growing into your man’s body,” he said.

  By lunch time I was sore and hungry. When I returned to my rooms, someone, probably Tayu, had anticipated my needs. There was warm water in the bath and food waiting in the front room. I checked the room and found it empty, so I stripped down and climbed into the tub. I was famished so I did not linger, but washed quickly, got out, and dressed.

  I piled some cold slices of roast beef onto a plate and took a hunk of bread. Nothing happened when I used Francis’ potion so I dug in. No one had told me that I was needed anywhere that afternoon, so I thought I would visit Francis after lunch. It was not to be.

  I heard a soft rustling and I turned to see Brin emerge from somewhere behind the sofa. She was covered head to toe in dust and cobwebs. Looking around with her big eyes, she saw me, came over and sat down in the chair next to me.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Eating lunch.”

  She looked at my food, and then started picking at my meat with dirty fingers. I started to point out that there was more food behind her, but stopped. Instead, I poured her a glass of water and handed it to her. She looked like she could use it.

  “What have you been doing?” I asked.

  “Exploring. I found a new stairwell in the old castle. I thought we could explore it together.”

  I looked at the dust and dirt covering her.

  “I just had a bath,” I said.

  She just stared at me through her thick lenses.

  “And I was going to visit Francis this afternoon,” I continued.

  Brin shrugged. “It’s okay. If you’re scared, I understand.”

  People have said that I’m intelligent, however I was also a thirteen year old boy.

  “I’m not scared. I just...”

  “I go all of the time. Besides, you’re the king aren’t you? It’s your castle. Don’t you want to know what you’ve got?”

  She made a convincing argument. I had been very curious about the castle since my arriv
al. I had the vague notion that Francis, Layred Vu and the others would definitely not approve of my wandering around the sealed sections with Brin. I pushed the thought out of my mind.

  “Alright. Let’s go.”

  The passage behind the couch was only waist high and blended perfectly with the wall panel. Once we were through, we were in a narrow, dark corridor that was high enough to stand up in.

  “I should bring a lamp.”

  “No, I have a light,” Brin said.

  She reached around her neck and removed a leather thong. Hanging from the end was what looked like a crystal of quartz about two inches long. Brin tapped it three times and it began to glow with a clear light superior to that of any lamp.

  “It belonged to my mother,” she said simply.

  Brin led us through the narrow corridor. Sometimes we had to turn sideways and squeeze. In other places it was comfortable enough. Before long, I must have looked as equally dusty and cobwebby as Brin did.

  “This is still the regular castle,” she whispered. These passages are all over it. We’ll get into the sealed sections up here.”

  In places, light from the castle filtered into our passage. Sometimes, I could hear voices coming from the other side of the wall. Brin and I remained quiet, afraid to get caught, though if I had thought about it I would have realized that my fears were ridiculous.

  Brin stopped and pointed to a peephole about waist high. I stooped and looked through it. General Tabor Till was seated at a table right in front of me. These looked like the general’s private quarters. He was reading a parchment. After a minute or two, Tabor Till got up from the table and threw the parchment into the fireplace. When General Till turned back, he seemed to look right at me. I shrunk back from the peephole and gestured for Brin to move on.

  Five more minutes brought us to a narrow, faded green door. I was starting to regret coming along, but I could see no option except to follow through. To back out would confirm that I was afraid. Brin pushed and the door opened easily and soundlessly. The air on the other side smelled musty and stale. We appeared to have entered a kitchen. Everything was covered in dust and I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a sneeze. I noted small footprints in the dust ahead of us. I was briefly alert, then realized that they were Brin’s.

  “All of the ways into the old castle are barred and a lot of them are guarded, except for the hidden doors,” said Brin. “I know three ways into the sealed castle.”