Chapter 6

Joria Z'int looked up at the clouds, saw them frosted with moonlight, and sighed, knowing there would still be no rain to lift the heat from the summer. She dragged a sack behind her, limping down the near-deserted street, the hanging lamps bright but barely piercing the gloom.

Grain spilled from the sack and she spat, lifting a hand to her brow and wiping it. Still she was no nearer to home. Still she had to carry this accursed thing for so long. The thought made her heart sink.

"Here, let me help you."

Joria jumped at the sudden sound of the voice and, glancing around, saw a hooded, cloaked man approach, his face hidden. Without waiting for her to reply, he heaved the sack onto his shoulders with a grunt.

"Lead the way, M'alaray."

M'alaray. An ancient term of respect used only for wise women. Joria smiled. A polite young man then, helpful and educated, too. He clearly wasn't going to attack her, as he would have done so already. "Thank you," she breathed. "So nice to see someone who actually looks out for others."

"Everyone should," the stranger replied. "Everyone in the town should be attending to everyone else. It's the proper way of the world."

Add naive to the list, Joria thought. She snorted. "Tell that to the Shadow Lord," she said, her tone biting. "I doubt he knows what hardships I have to go through." Gesturing, she began to lead him home.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Man has no idea of the little people like myself." She took in a deep breath. No sense getting angry.

"The Shadow Lord has no idea?"

"That's what I said."

"Our Shadow Lord?"

Joria let out a breath. "Who else do you think I'm talking about? Link! 'Hero' of Time. He's done nothing heroic for me, I can tell you. I'm sorry if this destroys the image you had of him, but the truth is the truth."

"I apologise, I was just...I didn't think..." He shook his head. "How is it," the stranger continued, "that you're dragging this sack of grain through the night all by yourself?"

Joria squinted as the glare from one of the lanterns caught her eye. "The scum at the Granary."

"The Granary?"

Gritting her teeth, Joria snapped, "Let me finish, boy." He was just like his grandchildren, impulsive and impatient.

"Right. The Granary?"

"They only give the food – well, not food, just grain, but anyway – they only give it out to the rich and their friends." She dodged a broken crate left on the ground, glanced behind her to make sure the stranger had done the same. "It's meant to be for people like me – widows who have no-one to wait on them. They give it to anyone who asks, even if they don't deserve it."

"Is that so?"

Shivering from the sudden chill in the stranger's voice, Joria changed track. "Still...I can relax now, watch the tournament tomorrow in peace."

"You're looking forward to it?"

What a silly question. "Everyone is! It's the talk of the town!" Joria cried, excitement bubbling inside. She couldn't help it; it made her feel young once more. "It's about time, too. The Palace has them almost all the time. They must lead a far more exciting life than us in Castleton."

"I doubt that."

Joria frowned. What a strange...stranger. Of course he was...he was wearing a hooded cloak in this heat. "Well. Hmm. I heard Franco DeZorres is taking part." She sighed, then chided herself for her foolishness. "Now, there's a real man."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well." She paused, struggling to organise her thoughts. "He's so gallant and dashing. And he's been on so many adventures. I'm sure he could run this city far better than the Shadow Lord."

"Anyone can have an adventure," the stranger countered. "If we just took time to explore and appreciate all the little things around us."

"Yes. Well. A wonderful man, he is. Far better than any of us. After all, the 'Daily Hylian' has written so much about his interesting life. Gives to charity, you know. My own granddaughter has a pictograph of him; she hangs it on the wall of her chambers. Dreams to marry someone just like him."

"Is that likely?"

The stranger was beginning to irritate her now, and Joria picked up her pace, eager to get home. "Well, no. Let the girl dream, eh?"

"What use are dreams?" the stranger said. "It keeps people from experiencing real life. Let her go out and see what's out there; let her have her own adventures, let her see real people, warts and all."

Joria cleared her throat. "Let her do anything she wants? That's not good. Besides, its not safe."

"Not anything she wants. Let her do something useful. Something that will give her a real experience, something practical, something that will make her feel like a part of the world."

Joria stopped in front of her little house, glad to be home. "Like?"

"Like helping you carry grain home."

"Well." Joria sniffed. "We're here. Thank you."

"No," the stranger said, backing off into the darkness once more. "Thank you."

2

"Link?"

Saria tapped lightly on the door to the Shadow Lord's private chambers, her ear against the carved wood, blinking as she strained to catch any hint of movement from within.

"Link?" she tried again, her voice soft, noticing the light spilling out from the crack near the bottom of the door, bathing her boots in a yellow glow. "The King's arrived. He's waiting."

Gently, she pushed against the door and, to a prickle of surprise, she found it opening slowly, a low creak emanating from the hinges. She swallowed, and glanced around as she pondered whether to enter. A slight edge of consternation brushed the back of her mind – why were there no guards here? In fact, she realised, the only person she'd met on the way here was Tingle.

Heart thudding in her chest, Saria shuffled inside, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. No, she corrected herself, it wasn't that dark – it was just that the candles here were so far apart that they could only cast ghostly shadows of light against the darkness.

Saria let the door close behind her as she gazed around the room in wonder, her eyes wide. Piles upon piles of books and scrolls filled the chamber, occupying every available space, as though it were blasphemy to leave even a single inch free. Coated with dust, the pages yellowing, the books were lined with an incandescent glow as they caught the faint, flickering candlelight.

The wooden floor creaked under her feet as Saria made her way in further. There was, she noted, no other piece of furniture here save for a small bedroll tucked into one corner, and even that was in disarray, as though a tornado had swallowed it whole, chewed it up, then spat it out in disgust. Aside from that, the only other thing she noticed were the small bottles littered here and there, empty but stained red from their previous content. Saria wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Her eyes fell upon an unfurled scroll, the parchment itself waxy, the writing upon it slanted and stylised. She frowned as she read: A Study into the Supposed Inter-Dimensional Portals within Hyrule Castle.

What in Hyrule did that mean? She reached out for it, meaning to study it further, when a hand snapped out of the darkness and grabbed her wrist. Her heard jerked up, her eyes finding the interloper instantly.

"Link," she sighed, relaxing. "There you are. Where have you been? Never mind, you're here now."

"Indeed I am, sunshine," he smiled. "And here you are, where you're not supposed to be."

Saria, accustomed to Link's blunt manner of speech, ignored the accusation. "I came to tell you that the King had arrived." She glanced over his clothes. "Why are you wearing a hooded cloak in summer?"

"The King!" the Shadow Lord replied quickly. "Good, good. Suppose I should go greet him." He turned to face her. "Go on, then."

Saria frowned. "What?"

"Tell me what you think of my humble abode. I know you're just itching to tell me off."

A little startled that he'd guessed her thoughts so easily, Saria was still able compose herself to say what she'd brooding upon ever since stepping inside. "Why do you live like this?" Her voice was a little too strained, her heart fluttering with concern. "You have wealth, Link, you can live more comfortably than this. In fact," her eyes found his, "you should be living in luxury."

"I should?" He gave his usual grin, then made for the door. "Is that written in the Code of Honour, I wonder? Or in the Book of Assistance?"

"It's just not right," Saria said, holding firm. "That the people in this city live in comfort while their liege lives like...like this!" Another flicker of concern brushed her thoughts. "Do you even eat properly?"

"Ah." He spun around, ignoring her question, his narrowed eyes gleaming. "Ah. But would the people be living in such splendour, I wonder, if someone hadn't studied all this," he swept his arm out towards all the books, "in order for them to be able to achieve such comfort?"

"You should eat," Saria mumbled, fidgeting with the pockets on her belt.

He smiled again. "The drone lives his life in servitude in order for the Queen Bee to live her life to the full. Of course, in the case of Castleton, the situation is reversed. Long live the drones, eh?"

Saria stood and blinked, the realisation of her friend's sacrifice making her curious, but not stopping her from more immediate concerns. She pulled out some bread, somewhat squashed but edible, from a pouch. "Eat."

Link glanced around the room, frowning, a finger to his lips. Finally he found what he'd been looking for and pulled free a parchment from under a pile of books, coughing as a cloud of dust floated lazily into the air. "Listen to this," he said.

Saria thrust the bread into her friend's face. "Eat!"

Scowling slightly, the Shadow Lord took the food with a half-hearted glare, glanced at it, sniffed, bit into it, then returned to his scroll. " 'Know, dear reader, that if you see a leader who strips his people of their wealth to feed his own lusts that such a person is a wretch. Know, too – what are you doing?"

"Tidying up."

Link stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "'Know, too, that if you see a leader who claims to love the people, and gives them all that they want, whilst all the while taking the larger share for himself that such a person is a danger; a leech upon society, deceptive and cunning like a fox.'" He laughed. "I like this next bit – hey, sunshine, leave that right there!"

Saria put the said item – a large tome coated with some sticky fluid – back where she'd found it. "Carry on."

The Shadow Lord gave an exasperated snort, his voice taking on a menacing edge. "Interfering little busybodies. I should hang them all and then string them all out to –"

"Link, I'm still in the room."

Looking positively startled, the Shadow Lord mumbled, "Sorry, sorry. Got a little ahead of myself."

"Go on."

"Excuse me?"

"Carry on with what you were quoting."

"Oh, yes." He cleared his throat. "'This type of leader should be removed to save the people from his evil, though only if they can see with clarity that the gifts they are receiving are meant to make them docile, not happy. If they cannot do this, then the people get the leader that they deserve.'" The Shadow Lord looked up. "Interesting, don't you think? From the Book of Principles by the Son of the Praised. The best leader is one with no selfish vices."

"Interesting," Saria murmured, standing upright and brushing the dust from her tunic. She tapped her finger against an empty potion bottle, giving off a slight ring. "No selfish vices indeed."

Link slammed his fist into the parchment, creasing it and unsettling dust. "No." And again. "Selfish." And again. "Vices." And yet again.

"Link," the Kokiri said softly. "Why are you hitting the scroll?"

"I'm making a point, love."

"Stop hitting the scroll, Link." She glanced over at his bedroll, noticed the blackened crusts of something lying on the floor beside it. "What's that?"

"Breakfast."

She winced. "You eat breakfast while lying down?"

The Shadow Lord's cheek twitched. "Don't start."

"But-"

"Don't!"

Swallowing, her thoughts finally in order, Saria took the plunge: "Link, if you know all this, why don't you teach it to the people? Why don't you explain things to everyone – I don't know, in public sermons - instead of acting...so..." It hit her just then, and all she could do was blink.

"Shadowy?" Link said, still smiling. "Looks like you've just hit the bullseye, love." A strange expression fell across his face, and Saria's heart tugged, so much did it remind her of the friend that she'd once known. "You know what's wrong with the people? What's wrong with the King? They like to indulge in idle diversions; they so love to be amused. This tournament," bitterness needled into his voice now, "all these tournaments -"

A sharp rap at the door cut Link off. "What is it?" he called, irritated.

Tingle's muffled voice reached them. "Milord, the King is waiting."

"Tell him I just died."

"Very good, sir."

"Wait, wait." Link bounded over to the door. "Do us a favour, mate." His voice dropped, but Saria, if she strained, could still make out what was being said. "Make sure we have someone posted at the Granary – someone we trust, mind – to look over everyone who's asking for food. I want priority given to widows and those incapacitated. None of the wealthy should be touching that food."

"Very good, sir."

"And I want whoever's running that place to come report to me after the tournament. Now, be off with you."

Saria stared at her friend. "What was that?"

"What?"

"That! About the Granary."

Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, the Shadow Lord looked away. "You know, you ask too many questions, love."

Saria folded her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing. "I'm just a little concerned about how my friend is living his life."

"Fill your little heart with bigger concerns, dear. Now, where was I?" He frowned. "Oh, yes. Tournaments." The acid tone returned. "One or two, that'd be fine, but there's almost every week at the Palace. The people, the King, they're addicted to them – it keeps them from thinking about the burdens of their own lives. But they're nothing, these tournaments, empty and unreal."

"Unreal?"

"Unreal because too much of it blunts their lives – they think only these diversions make them happy, make them feel, I don't know, superior, but they learn nothing, nothing that helps them alleviate the burdens that they're so eager to hide from, nothing that helps them reach their own potential – they're too busy watching people who they consider to be real examples of humanity, instead of trying to be real examples of humanity themselves."

Saria watched him cautiously as he finally stopped, noting that he was somewhat out of breath. "Then why are you holding a tournament? If this is how you feel."

"Do you think I could go out there and reel off a list of why I believe Zelda doesn't deserve my throne? No. The only way I can make the people and the King understand is to humiliate her in defeat; that's the only language they understand." He picked up one of the scrolls and let his fingers glide over it lovingly. "They don't comprehend this. They don't see that their amusements give them nothing tangible in their life, but this...this knowledge could transform them if they'd let it. In the end, nothing is real for them, nothing gains their attention, unless it amuses them."

"Listen, Link," Saria said, trotting over to the door and opening. "This is all very fascinating." And it was, she had to admit, as her mind was awhirl. "But we should really greet the King. Etiquette, and whatnot."

Nodding, the Shadow Lord gestured for her to go on ahead. They went straight down to the main hallway, Tingle joining them along the way, to find the King and his courtiers, still wrapped in their travel garments, waiting somewhat impatiently.

"Well, look who it is," Link mumbled.

Saria followed his gaze. "The Princess."

"The Princess," Link confirmed. "Must have joined her father earlier."

Saria noted, with a hint of mild surprise, that Zelda was, for some reason, holding her wrist gingerly. She didn't notice the Kokiri, but her companion, Ruto, did, and gave a small nod, smiling. Saria returned the gesture.

She glanced at Zelda again, but the Princess' attention was elsewhere, her hard eyes set. She had, Saria realised, a few more guards around her than usual.

"Link!" the King boomed, beaming, his arms outstretched. "I've been waiting for you, my young friend!"

The Shadow Lord grinned in response, catching the older man in a fierce hug. Saria saw that her old friend had, in the time it had taken for them to get here, grown somewhat in stature, walking now with a regal strut.

"You honour us with your presence, Your Highness," the Shadow Lord said, his voice now clipped and precise. "I welcome you all to Castleton, and pray that you have both a beneficial and most comfortable experience."

"Of course, of course," the King said, waving the words away frantically. "How are you these days?"

"My health is impeccable," the Shadow Lord replied. "As is yours, it would seem. This brings joy to my heart." He smiled. "And how is the most delicious and simply quite irresistibly stunning Malon nowadays? That's a sight I really want to feast on."

Silence descended on the hallway as though it were a slab of stone. All conversations died, save for the occasional cough and nervous whisper.

The King stared hard at the Shadow Lord. Saria's heart tightened, her mouth dry.

"Link," the King said, his tone cautious. "That's my wife you're talking about."

There was another pause, a twinkle sparkling in Link's eyes, before his ever-present smile returned. "So she is." He raised his hands. "I do apologise. Whatever was I thinking?"

The King watched him for a moment more, then, to the relief of everyone in the room, her burst into deep laughter. "That's my boy!" he cried. "Always teasing me, aren't you? Yes, yes, the Queen is well and sends her regards. Look, look..." He pulled Link towards the others. "Zelda is here, too. In fact, I think she's been here quite a while and not left. You tend to have that effect on her, eh?"

Zelda scowled as Link shrugged sheepishly.

"Would you believe," the King continued, "that she's entered herself into this tournament you've arranged in the morning? Terrible, isn't it?"

Link almost smirked. "Shocking."

Zelda, her mouth in a tight line, rolled her eyes.

"It would seem," another voice, deep and rich, rang out, "that the Shadow Lord has not learnt how to treat a Princess."

Link turned to the newcomer. Saria saw that the man was tall, his dark hair flowing, and as he walked, the Princess' handmaidens had their wide eyes fixed on him, their hands on their chests. As he passed each one, they let free a deep sigh. "And who," the Shadow Lord said, "might you be?"

The man flashed a smile that was sparkling in its intensity. Somewhere in the room a handmaiden fainted. "I am Franco DeZorres," he said. "I, too, shall be entering the tournament come dawn's dazzling light." He turned to Zelda, and the Princess blinked, startled by the sudden attention. "Such a vision of pure radiance. Tell me; are you one of the stars from the heavens given form? A portrait that our humble eyes do not deserve to even glance upon?" Zelda, though desperately trying to scowl, had the grace to blush. Franco gave a light laugh. "Ah...such modesty. You must remind me to regale you with my many tales. I'm sure you'll be interested in my battle against the Pitspawned Dragon, Xyria, and how I, with just my bare hands and the cloak on my back, obtained the Great Pearl of Dornaeoth amidst the most terrible of dangers." Another handmaiden duly fainted.

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but Link stepped in between the two of them. "Ah," the Shadow Lord said. "But do you have the Mighty Sword of Eternal Polish and the rather fetching, and extremely hard to obtain, Splendid Green Hat." Link grinned. "I think not."

Franco stared at Link, his mouth agape, his jaws struggling to put into words the utter incomprehension that was now spread over his face.

Zelda spun away from the two of them, seething. "Please spare me your nonsense," she barked. "Both of you. I'd like to be taken to my chambers, please."

"Of course," Link said, clicking his fingers while the others began to disperse. "Tingle. Please show the Princess and her handmaidens to their quarters." He glanced at the floor. "And bring smelling-salts for these two." His eye caught Zelda nursing her wrist. "Had a little accident?"

"That's none of your concern," Zelda replied.

"On the contrary," the Shadow Lord countered. "Everyone in Castleton is my concern."

The Princess' face wrinkled with scorn. "I find that hard to believe."

Link ignored the comment. "Tingle, bring the Princess some healing herbs."

"Very good, sir," the advisor said, yet again.

"That's not necessary," Zelda said quickly. "Besides, wouldn't it be to your advantage to have me injured for tomorrow?"

The Shadow Lord looked straight at her now, his face softening suddenly. "I want you to lose, Princess. I don't want you to be hurt."

Saria stepped up to her friend, watching as the Shadow Lord and the Princess continued to stare at the other, the air between them tense. Some expression was fighting to form on Zelda's face, though it was hard to tell exactly what.

Then, with a curt nod, the Princess motioned to her handmaidens and stormed past them, leaving the two friends with only her parting words: "I'll see you in the morning, Link. And I want you to lose, too."