Don't have much to say again, but okay, here we go! Here comes the plot!
Pitken -- or is it?
Kel and Neal waited in line for their assignments. Ahead of them stretched a queue of at least fifty people, perhaps more. Silence reigned in the banquet hall; after the roar of before the king's speech, the silence was almost as deafening.
The king and queen sat at the royal table, conversing in hushed tones with their advisors. Messengers ran to and from their huddled forms, bringing updates and other important information.
Kel turned to Neal. "I still can't believe it," she whispered hoarsely, tears stinging her eyes. Lord Imrah was Prince Roald's knight-master, and her friend. She couldn't accept that her beloved country was under attack – and worse, that Tortall didn't look like it could fight back against four countries.
"You've said that enough," Neal answered morosely. "But for the record, I can't either."
At the royal table, the king raised his head, frowning and looking rather puzzled. When he caught sight of Kel, he lowered his head again and returned to his council. He raised two fingers, bringing a messenger to his side. The messenger listened to the king, nodded, and took off.
A few minutes later, the young messenger ran up to the two knights. "The king and queen want to see you, Sir and Lady Knight." He was breathless and red-faced. It was obvious he had been running almost nonstop. Neal exchanged a look with Kel, then answered the young man.
"Very well. But we've been waiting for quite a long time. I think the king won't mind if you hold our place for us," he said kindly.
"Thank you, sir," the messenger puffed.
"When we come back, you can get right back to delivering," Kel added.
"Thank you, lady."
The two knights walked briskly away toward the royal couple. "Don't they know how to say anything but sir' and lady?'" Neal muttered.
They approached the table with difficulty. People crowded around it, creating a near-impossible maze of bodies to wade through. Eventually, they made it to the front, where the queen greeted them.
"Kel, Neal, I'm glad to see you," said Thayet. A smile creased the corner of her mouth, but her eyes remained worried and preoccupied, and she darted a brief, heartrending gaze at her husband, currently deep in a conversation with his council. The queen's eyes returned to Kel, and she continued. "Kel, I've just had some news. Apparently, there is someone waiting for you in the East Wing of the Greater Library. Sir Raoul is with your guest. He requested that you get there as quickly as you can."
"Yes, Your Highness," Kel said as she bowed. She looked apologetically at Neal, turned on her heel and strode away toward the main door. Behind her, she heard Thayet say, "Now, Sir Nealan, This may not be the time, but I seem to be remembering an incident with a pail of slops . . ."
Kel sped down the labyrinth of halls that made up the Palace. She skidded to a halt in front of the door to the East Wing and straightened her tunic. Kel knocked hurriedly at the door. The door immediately opened a crack, and she could see Raoul's dark eye peering at her. He swung the door wide and ushered her in, saying nothing, with an extremely strange look on his face. He locked the door behind her.
"Kel," he began. "You have an extremely . . . strange . . . visitor. He's right over there." Raoul pointed to a corner of the room. Kel turned her gaze to the strangest looking person she had ever seen before.
He was huddled in a corner, wedged between two bookshelves. The clothes he wore were ragged and torn, spattered with mud and thistles. His beard and hair looked as if they might have originally been white, but they were drenched in mud as well. His shoes were in tatters on his feet. Strangest of all, a bright red, clean hat perched jauntily upon his grimy hair. He sat shivering, oblivious to the fact that another person had entered the room.
Kel walked over to him, looking uncertainly back at Raoul. Raoul gestured for her to begin talking.
"Um . . . can I help you, sir?" she asked hesitantly. "I was told you wanted to meet with me."
The man looked up, gasped, and clambered to his feet. He began speaking with a high pitched, almost hysterical voice. "Lady Keladry! I have looked long and hard since I found out . . . looking for you, the one who can save! I knew you would remember me, old man that I am, for you, Lady Kel, are special. You are special," he repeated, then began muttering to himself.
Kel frowned thoughtfully at him. Something in the old man's voice seemed almost familiar. She shook her head and spoke again. "Um, sir?" The man focused on her. "Do I -- do I know you, sir?"
He jumped. "Shame on me for not introducing myself, though it must be excused for I have wandered long and far from where I started, as you yourself must . . . I traveled long and hard when I heard the news, in order to find you, for you are --"
"Special. So you've said." Raoul's dry voice cut through the man's ramblings. He pushed off from the wall and sauntered over to stand next to Kel. From the expression on the older knight's face, he had had enough of the babbling and wanted to get to the bottom of the situation. "Now, good sir, would you mind telling us who you are?"
The man straightened proudly. "Aye, I myself will tell you, for no one knows me but me!" Raoul began to say something, but Kel elbowed him in the side. "I, of course, am me! Me being, of course, myself!" Both Kel and Raoul were getting tired of the man's circling talk, and Kel was seriously considering walking out, but she was still hoping the man would tell his identity, so the itch in her brain would be relieved. She almost had it . . .
The man was not yet finished.
"And myself, of course, is Pitken!"
Kel froze, her eyes opened wide. "Pitken?" she stuttered, unable to believe what he said. But it immediately rang a bell, and although she couldn't explain how, she knew he was telling the truth.
Raoul was just as incredulous. "Kel, you know this man?"
Kel answered him quickly. "He was my mentor, back from when I was born until we went to the Yamani Islands. We were close -- he taught me a lot of the things I needed to know, and he even saved me once; I was lost for a day and a half and he found me, crazy though that is. He was the first one who knew I wanted to be a knight. He was too old to travel to the Islands, and he didn't want to go anyway . . . My mother loved him, she said he was special . . . I can't believe he's turned up now! After all these years!"
"Special," Raoul repeated. "That word seems to be turning up a lot lately."
Kel ignored him. "Pitken, what are you doing? You should be happily living somewhere nice, not trekking through gods know what! You could have just contacted me! Mother knew where I was!"
"Ahhhhh," said Pitken. "My lady does not understand. I left. Left your home long ago, but I found out, and I left again. I left to help you, for you are . . . you are . . ." he trailed off again.
"I think he's a bit touched in the head, don't you?" muttered Raoul.
"He's wonderful!" protested Kel. "I just need to know something he keeps saying . . . Pitken," she addressed him, "What did you 'find out?'"
"The attack, my lady! Pitken found out about the attack!"
Kel shot a look at Raoul. "Has the king announced to everyone what has happened?" Raoul shook his head. "Then how does he know? Mindelan is nowhere near any of the attack points! And besides, he wasn't home when I returned -- they said he'd run off. How could he know something like that? And why did he turn up now, in the Greater Library . . ."
"I have no idea," Raoul muttered. "But I'm beginning to listen to this 'special' old man.
"Pitken," Kel said again. "What do you know about the attack?"
"Pitken knows much! He knows the lady is the one who will save, is the one who will find the Six and bring them back from whence they have landed, far and long, wide and stretched away! For she is the one, the one for which they were hidden. For her eyes only I have these words, penned long ago for only her and her chosen to see!"
Suddenly he changed dramatically. Drawing himself up tall, he looked almost regal. Pitken was actually quite a tall man, almost matching Raoul in height. His voice deepened, and dark eyes blazed in his grubby face.
"For long years have I searched for thee, and now, I have found thee. By my blood I saved thee, and by my tears I gave thee away, and now, I will help thee again." Kel shrank away, alarmed. This wasn't Pitken any more. She did not know this man.
Pitken held out his hand. "Now, mine Lady Knight, take this parchment from mine own hand. Know that you alone, and only one other of your choosing, may take this in hand. No others. Now take it!" He held out his hand, and was holding a parchment. Numbly, Kel reached out and took it.
"Now, I bid thee farewell, mine Lady Knight. Safe journey, and safe home you will return." Pitken bent down and kissed her forehead. Kel felt a weird energy jolt through her body. Releasing her, Pitken stalked to the door and exited the room.
Ooooh . . . creepy, huh? How did you like Pitken? If you review, I'll know . . . plus if you make suggestions, I just might use them! *gasp* what a novel idea!!