The Letter for the King

  Footsteps outside the room startled Tiuri. He stopped looking at the book and walked towards the door. It opened and Piak came in, accompanied by the servant.

  “My master will be with you soon,” said the servant and then he left them alone.

  “Free!” said Piak. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” replied Tiuri, “we’ll be able to leave soon.” He was about to start explaining, but before he could begin, the toll master returned, still with the letter in his hand.

  “Ah, so here’s your friend,” he said. “Your name’s Piak, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, my lord,” replied Piak.

  “A messenger just arrived from Dangria,” said the toll master, “sent by Master Dirwin, on behalf of the town council.”

  The two friends held their breath.

  “This probably comes as no surprise to you,” the toll master continued. “The letter refers to two young men who caused a commotion in the city, before leaving against the express wishes of the council.”

  “But we couldn’t stay!” protested Tiuri.

  “Master Dirwin has asked me to question you and to keep you here if I deem it necessary.”

  “My lord,” said Tiuri, “I have told you everything I could. We cannot wait; we have to travel on, to the king. I have already told you more than I should, but you are wearing a ring just like Sir Edwinem’s so I felt that I could confide in you. Please let us go!”

  “Oh, I shall,” said the toll master and, for the first time, he smiled. “You dared to trust me and now I shall do the same for you. Just one thing: you are in a hurry, but are you planning to go on foot?”

  “We have no other means of transport,” said Tiuri.

  “And no money either. Well, you can both borrow a horse from me. You’ll reach Ingewel by this evening, where you can leave the horses in the care of the landlord at the Inn of the First Night.”

  “Oh, thank you,” said Tiuri.

  “The innkeeper may give you fresh horses if he has them. Then you can ride on to the inn in the Hills of the Moon. And as for the toll, I have already said that I expect to see you back here as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, my lord,” said Tiuri.

  “Then you may leave,” said the toll master.

  Tiuri and Piak bowed, but he shook both of them by the hand and kindly wished them a good journey.

  As they were walking through the hall downstairs, a man leapt to his feet.

  “So it is you!” he cried. It was Doalwen, whom they’d met at the White Swan. And it turned out that he was the messenger from Dangria.

  “Well, well,” he said. “You’ve certainly given us plenty of trouble!”

  “We have?” said Piak. “But we got out of Dangria as quickly as we could.”

  “That’s just it,” said Doalwen. “Iruwen helped you, didn’t he? He always gets involved in things that are none of his concern. When Master Dirwin came to fetch you, Iruwen told him you’d already left for the town hall. But of course you weren’t there. The morning was half gone by the time they realized you’d flown. Iruwen had a long discussion with Master Dirwin, trying to convince him that you were right to leave. Are you coming back to Dangria with me?”

  “No,” said Tiuri. “We have our own road to follow.”

  Doalwen looked surprised. “I see,” he said. “Well, we all have our orders to follow. Anyway, your escape is old news by now. The mayor made an escape attempt of his own. What a thing! But they managed to catch him and now he’s back safe and sound in his fine house on the town square.”

  “Pah!” said Piak. “They should have thrown him into the hole beneath the town hall!”

  Doalwen laughed. “It’s a shame we have to say goodbye again,” he said. “Now I have to ride back on my own. Did you see the messenger they sent to King Unauwen? He should have passed through here already. He left Dangria yesterday morning. You know him, actually. It was the mayor’s scribe. Turns out he’s not just a quill-dipper, but a good horseman too!”

  Tiuri and Piak would have liked to talk to Doalwen for longer, but they knew they had to be on their way. So they said farewell and headed outside.

  The barrier at the bridge was already up and they found Warmin waiting with two horses.

  Tiuri spoke to him. “It was you who ensured that I could speak to the toll master so quickly,” he said. “My sincere thanks.”

  “Oh, don’t mention it,” said the guard, looking at them curiously. “I see you obviously had a good reason for wanting to cross the river as soon as possible.”

  The two friends climbed onto the horses. This time, Piak looked as though he’d done it a thousand times before.

  “You’ll find a few useful things in your saddlebag,” said Warmin. “Good journey!”

  The two young men rode through the gate and over the bridge. Click, clack! went the horses’ hoofs on the stone surface, and the water on both sides sparkled in the sunlight.

  “Maybe the Rainbow River is the right name after all!” Piak called out to Tiuri.

  And so they set off on the final part of their journey.

  PART SEVEN

  TO THE WEST OF

  THE RAINBOW RIVER

  1 THE FOREST OF INGEWEL

  A wide, well-kept road ran from the Rainbow River through a flat expanse of fields, meadows and orchards. The friends rode quickly. Piak was already quite at home on his horse.

  “With a bit of practice, you’ll make a good horseman,” Tiuri predicted.

  “Phew!” said Piak, when they stopped to rest for a moment. “I’m so stiff. But what a lot of new things I’ve done! I’ve ridden horses, and I’ve been in a boat. I’ve nearly drowned, I’ve been in prison twice – although I could have done without that new experience – and I’ve met so many people. And the things I’ve seen! A city, a castle, a big river… But it all must seem so normal to you.”

  “Not really,” said Tiuri. “I’ve seen a city, a castle and a big river before, but they weren’t the same as these.”

  “I wonder what else we’ll see and do on our journey,” said Piak. He looked westwards. “Do you see that forest over there?” he said. “Could it be the Forest of Ingewel already?”

  “I think so,” replied Tiuri. “We’ve made good progress.”

  Inside the saddlebags they found bread, a bottle of wine and a pouch of silver coins.

  “How kind,” said Piak. “The toll master was so much nicer than I’d expected. Strange, isn’t it, how some people turn out to be very different than you thought at first?”

  “Yes,” said Tiuri, thinking about what Piak had said. “That’s what happened with the toll master and when I met the Grey Knights, too.” Tiuri was in good spirits and he could hardly imagine that they might encounter any more difficulties.

  Piak felt the same and, as they rode on, he started singing happily. He sang one song after another, and eventually it turned into a melody without words, a tune that Tiuri didn’t know. It sounded strange: quick at times, and then slower, sometimes lively, sometimes soft and mysterious. Piak hummed the tune over and over again, changing something about it every time until he seemed to find a melody that he liked. Then he looked at Tiuri and said in a quiet voice, “Do you know what I’m singing?”

  “No,” said Tiuri.

  “It’s a tune to the words that only we know. I’m not allowed to say them out loud. Why don’t you sing them along with me, in your head?”

  Piak started humming again, and Tiuri realized that it was true: he could sing the letter’s message to the tune that Piak had devised. Tiuri hummed along and, singing without words, the two friends rode into the Forest of Ingewel.

  The forest was like no other forest Tiuri had ever seen. The grass was greener, the trees were more beautiful, the climbing plants more unusual than anywhere else. The road surface was made up of thick, springy moss. But the most amazing thing about the forest was the flowers that were blooming everywhere; they grew along the roadside and climbed up the tre
e trunks and whole clusters of them hung down from the branches.

  When they had been riding for a couple of hours, they came upon three men resting by the side of the road, dressed in green and brown. Bunches of flowers lay beside them, which they had clearly just picked.

  “Good afternoon, boys!” one of them called. “You know, you’re riding far too quickly!”

  Tiuri and Piak reined in their horses.

  “Why’s that?” asked Piak.

  “Well, what do you think of this forest?” said the man.

  “It’s the most beautiful forest I’ve ever seen,” Piak replied.

  “And that is the only correct response,” said the man. “But you shouldn’t hurry through the Forest of Ingewel. We don’t appreciate haste in these parts. Come, sit with us a while and listen to what the birds are singing. And have one of my apples. Or would you prefer a plum, or a wild cherry? No fruit tastes better than the fruit of Ingewel. In fact, the king won’t eat fruit from any other place.”

  Tiuri and Piak climbed down from their horses. It was about time they stopped to rest anyway. They took the man’s advice, lay down on the grass, and ate some of his fruit.

  “Ah,” sighed Piak. “That’s so good.”

  “Strangers here?” asked one of the other men.

  “Yes,” replied Piak.

  “We’ve come to take a look at your country,” Tiuri added.

  The men thought this a most praiseworthy enterprise and asked all kinds of questions about where Tiuri and Piak came from and where they’d been on their travels. Then they told them some stories about their own land and about Ingewel in particular.

  “You must return for the flower festival,” said one of them. “We adorn ourselves with flowers and sing and dance through the forest. And in the evening we gather by Lake Ingewel; that’s the lake that the area’s named after. We go out in boats and throw flowers at each other until the water has disappeared and all you can see are the flowers floating on the surface.”

  “There was no flower festival this year,” another of the men said sadly, “because Sir Andomar wasn’t here. Sir Andomar is the lord who governs this area; there’s no other man like him! He went away at the beginning of this year when the king sent him on a mission to Eviellan. It’s a dangerous place; don’t ever go there.”

  “But we are to make peace with Eviellan,” said the third man. “That’s why the king sent his best knights there. And who better to choose than our own Sir Andomar?”

  “But he has still not returned,” said the other man.

  The men fell silent and so did Tiuri and Piak. Tiuri wondered if these kind people would ever see their lord again, and if Sir Andomar would return to celebrate the flower festival with them.

  When Tiuri felt rested, he stood up and said it was time to move on.

  “So soon?” cried the men. “You’re in such a hurry.”

  “We want to reach an inn before nightfall,” said Tiuri. “The Inn of the First Night.”

  “You should sleep out in the open air,” said one of the men. “But the First Night is good too. It’s in the village, beside Lake Ingewel. If you follow this road, you’ll come to it.”

  The two friends said goodbye to the men and rode on. They spoke little. Tiuri was thinking about Sir Andomar. He didn’t know him, but he had been a companion of Sir Edwinem’s. Having spoken to the men, he suddenly realized that worry and fear lay concealed behind the apparent peace and contentment of this pleasant part of the world. And he thought about the letter that he, a stranger, was bringing to this land. What consequences would it have for the people who lived here?

  It was almost dark by the time they reached the village, which was also called Ingewel and which lay on the lake, close to the western edge of the forest. The lake glinted in the evening light, tranquil and mysterious. White water lilies hugged the banks, which made Tiuri think of how the lake must look during the flower festival. To the south, they saw a few towers pointing up above the trees; they later heard that these were the towers of Sir Andomar’s castle.

  They soon found the Inn of the First Night. It was a large building and the only inn in the village. The innkeeper gave them a warm welcome. He made sure the horses were taken care of and said they could have two fresh horses to continue their journey.

  “You’re in luck,” he said. “I have only two horses that are well rested. The best horse isn’t here right now. I gave it to a man who came through from the east this afternoon. But he was a messenger, on his way to the City of Unauwen.”

  Tiuri realized it must be the messenger from Dangria, and he said, “Oh? And when did he leave?”

  “Let me think. He got here at about four,” the innkeeper replied. “He had something to eat and rested a while. And he left over an hour ago, at about seven.”

  Then he asked Tiuri and Piak what they wanted to eat.

  “We don’t really mind,” said Tiuri. “But first let me show you what we can pay. We don’t have very much money.”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem,” said the innkeeper. “You’ve come from Lord Ardian, the toll master of the Rainbow River, and so you would be welcome even if you had no money at all. I’ll give you a room for tonight as well. Travellers who are coming from the toll fortress always sleep here the first night. That’s how my inn got its name.”

  The two friends tucked into their dinner. There were not many people at the inn, just one other traveller and a few villagers. After dinner, the innkeeper’s wife took them to their room.

  Piak dropped down onto the colourful patchwork quilt and sighed. “Oh, that’s wonderful. You’ve no idea how tired I am. I can really feel that I’ve been in the saddle all day. But now I can lie on my stomach and have a lovely sleep.” He gave a loud yawn, and then looked at Tiuri and started laughing.

  “What is it?” asked Tiuri.

  “Oh, it’s just that this room looks so beautiful, but I can’t say the same about you! That jacket of yours is quite a sight; all of the colours have run into each other!”

  Tiuri laughed too. “Yes, my bargain from the market in Dangria,” he said. “But you don’t exactly look very elegant either.”

  “We’re both so scruffy. Pity about this lovely bed, isn’t it?” said Piak. “Oh well. I don’t care. I’m just going to keep on lying here.”

  Tiuri became serious again. “But not for too long, eh?” he said.

  “Why? Do you want to be off again soon?”

  “Yes, I want to reach the City of Unauwen as soon as possible. We’ll have fresh horses, so…”

  “You’re right,” said Piak, holding in a sigh.

  “I’ll go and tell the innkeeper that we’d like to leave soon,” Tiuri continued. “Not right away, though. Let’s say an hour.”

  He went back downstairs. The innkeeper promised to have the horses ready in an hour. He didn’t seem to be the curious type, because he hadn’t said a word about the appearance of his young guests, nor did he ask a single question about their business.

  When Tiuri went back to the room, he found Piak asleep. Tiuri lay down on the bed too, but he didn’t sleep. It was strange, given the peaceful, friendly surroundings, but he felt the need to hurry more than ever before, as if there were no time to lose.

  2 AN EVENTFUL NIGHT

  “You can stable the horses at the Inn of the Hills of the Moon,” said the innkeeper as Tiuri and Piak were preparing to leave.

  “The Hills of the Moon?” said Piak, pulling himself into the saddle with a pained expression.

  “Yes, they’re called that because they look best by moonlight. It’s no longer full moon, but they’ll still be beautiful enough.”

  “How far is it to the inn?” asked Tiuri.

  “About a day’s journey,” replied the innkeeper. “So, eleven, twelve hours. You can ride quickly across the Hills of the Moon and it’s a clear night. If you need to travel onwards, you can keep these horses, unless you find new ones at the inn. I’ll get them back in due course. Have
a good ride!”

  Tiuri and Piak thanked him and said goodbye, and then they set off. The horses trotted through the silent village and then moved more swiftly through the forest. Before long, they had left the forest behind and were heading into the hills.

  They entered a wondrous landscape, a place straight out of a fairy tale, with low, grassy hills, grey boulders and just the occasional clump of bushes or a twisted tree. The road looked almost white and all of the colours were soft, dreamy shades, except for the deep black of the shadows. Perhaps it was the effect of the moon, which shone brightly in a sky full of small, wispy clouds. It was so quiet, but when they reined in their horses for a moment, they heard a constant sound in the background: the chirping of crickets in the grass. The hills appeared to be uninhabited; they saw no houses or any other signs of people.

  Tiuri and Piak rode on in silence for some time. The quietness all around was affecting them, too. Gradually, though, the character of the landscape began to change. At first they hardly noticed it, but then they realized that the hills had become higher, the road was narrower, the undergrowth was thicker, and the trees were even more gnarled and twisted. The whole landscape seemed wilder and more desolate. And something else seemed to have changed. The silence felt ominous, and the light was ghostly; everything somehow seemed to have become sinister and frightening. At least that was what Tiuri thought, although he didn’t mention it to Piak. But Piak was apparently feeling the same way; he kept looking back over his shoulder, and at one point he started singing quietly, perhaps in an attempt to chase his fears away. But his voice sounded strange and too loud in the quietness of the night, and then it faltered and died away.