Chapter Four

"Denevive," said Celena, "you'd better go. To Palas. I'll have it arranged so that you can take one of our horses. You can return it at a later date." All of this was said in passing as she gathered her skirts and followed the maid out of the kitchen. Denevive followed behind, being led into the foyer. "Jeyla," she suddenly turned on the young fire-haired maid, "go see to Denevive's horse. I'll be busy."

Jeyla nodded and turned to summon the stable boy Kush. Denevive was left standing on the red carpet of the foyer, watching as Celena bounded up the stairs and disappeared as she turned a corner. He was alone. He looked about, examining the foyer of the Schezar manor. The front doors were just closing as Jelya went outside to fetch his horse. A small wooden table, made of dark cherry oak, stood in the corner. The vase placed on that same table was made to have ornate, ancient looking designs drawn in blue and white. It looked very old, very valuable.

Denevive's gaze fell on the double-doors across the hall from where he stood, made of the same dark wood. Maybe that was the study that Celena spoke of earlier, he thought to himself. He looked up towards the ceiling, muffled sounds of footsteps filling the foyer. Everyone was upstairs. Denevive took a breath, stepping up to the door and slowly placing his hand on the handle. His heart was pounding. Surely this was wrong of him to do, trespassing and the like. Though, he was sure that he wouldn't get another chance to find anything about his race. So he opened the door, quickly closing it behind him before he could think anyone saw him.

Inside this dust-filled room, Denevive felt suddenly claustrophobic. Bookshelves not only lined the walls but filled the entire room like a cramped library. Rows upon rows of bookshelves. There were not only filled with books but occasionally Denevive would catch sight of wondrous small artifacts stuck in between the leather bound tomes. Glints of gold, or a flash of ivory here and there captured the half-elf's attention for but a moment. He kept reminding himself why he was doing this. But what was he looking for?

Stepping forward through a small pathway between the bookshelves, he came to the other end of the room where a small window. The corners of the glass were filled with dust, letting in rays of sunshine that illuminated the dust particles flying about that would be otherwise hidden in the shadows. The room was very dusty. Perhaps, Denevive thought to himself, not even the maids were allowed into this room. The room was so quiet; he could hear nothing but the faint buzzing of his nervous system if he stood perfectly still. His boots made hollow sounds on the hard wood floor when he took a step. Each time he set his foot down, the sound made his heart beat wilder against his chest. He knew this was wrong and he had already begun to silently admonish himself for his mistake.

Was it really a mistake, though? He turned to his left and there saw a small desk tucked away in the corner. Beside it were more shelves overflowing with books. It was an old looking piece of furniture, this writing desk he now set his gaze upon. Perhaps it was even an antique. Everything seemed to be antique in this particular place of the Schezar manor. Even the collection of swords displayed above the desk looked old. With a slight smile, Denevive examined the swords, five of them parallel to each other on a fine wooden rack. He noticed the different designs and makes of the blades, not one of them similar to the other and he was easily able to identify each country the five swords came from.

"No time to dilly dally, you bloat." Denevive said to himself. He stepped up to the desk and scanned its surface. He saw nothing but parchment strewn about, paitences and bills to a variety of markets in Palas. Nothing else but a forgotten quill and ink well next to an ornately designed puzzle box. At least, he thought it was a puzzle box or maybe a writer's chest. It was a very small writer's chest, at the very least. It looked to be made of one solid piece of black onyx, painted with silver leaves and vines.

Denevive picked up the mysterious box and realized that it was not a box at all. It had no hinges with which to open the top. Not only that but he could not find a lip or groove to identify the part of the box that opens but he could hear something moving about inside it. How in the world did anything get in it without a way to open it. He brought it closer to his face, examining the detail of the vines when he noticed they weren't vines at all. It was so small and close together that from afar they looked like solid lines but were, in fact, runes of some sort. Writing of some unknown language. But what astounded the half-elf even more was that he could read it. He had to squint to see it but could barely make out a word . . .

Ki'Santh.

"Sir Denevive?" Upon hearing his name, Denevive stiffened. The box he found was still in his hands but hidden to the person speaking behind him. He quickly hid the artifact within the folds of his doublet, holding it close to his chest in a way to almost seem natural before turning. The red-haired maid, Jeyla, stood watching him with a horrified expression. "You mustn't be in here, sir." she continued in her jittery tone of voice, "The master will have my head if he finds out. Same for the mistress. Please, you must leave this place."

Swallowing and unable to say anything, Denevive only nodded and stepped past the nervous maid. He sensed Jeyla following close behind him. His arm was pressed to his side, feeling the box pressing against him beneath the leather of his doublet. It was harder to conceal such an object when handed the reigns to a horse, however, and he fumbled a bit when mounting the black flanked horse.

"Sir Denevive," spoke the stable boy Kush after helping Denevive mount, "a man came here looking for you."

"A man?" Denevive asked, curious. Suddenly he realized he the boy might be talking about, reminded of just how he had spent the night without telling his King of his whereabouts. He must be furious! And Jadik will be no less merciful. "Who was this man?"

Kush shook his head, now seeming more apprehensive to the half-elf as he looked down upon the lad. "He didn't say, sir. He - he didn't look like a very nice fellow, really. He offered me gold to tell him where you were. So I sent him to Freid and told him he could find you there."

"And he believed you?" Denevive face showed a slight smile and raised eyebrow in amusement, hiding the fact that the news disturbed him somewhat. When he saw Kush nod, Denevive managed a small chuckle, "You did good, lad. If this person truly went to Freid, by the time he returned to mend his mistake I shall be far from Asturia. I thank you humbly for what you did. Did he threaten you?"

Kush hesitated, scratching at his scruffy black crop of hair. "He didn't really hurt me. So long as I told him where to find you. And I even got a nice piece of gold for it." He held up the coin proudly, letting it shine in the mid-day sun. He let Denevive take it in hand to examine it, not knowing that looking at it so closely was only to humor the boy.

"Rewarded for lying, eh?" Denevive laughed lightly, turning the coin over in his hand. He suspected it was a piece of Asturian currency but he had never seen the symbols that were on the particular coin in his hand. Yet, he had seen them. The same runes as the ones on the box, and the same word he could read. Ki'Santh.

"Well," continued the boy, digging his toe in between the grooves of the cobblestone pathway, "Sometimes I take part in small plays at the Tugg'n'Lo Theater. I want to be an actor when I grow up. So I wasn't lying, really. I was acting." Kush grinned, his reward pressed back into his palm by a now somber samurai. "Are you all right, Sir Denevive?"

"Yes, I'm fine." answered the half-elf absently, "Thank you for preparing the horse for me. And I'm sure you'll make an excellent actor some day. Don't ever let go of your dreams. You might never know what secret treasure lies just beyond them."

"Yes, sir." piped the happy boy. His nervousness was forgotten with the smile Denevive flashed him before spurring the horse. Kush stood watching as the samurai galloped away on Allen's faithful steed.

Everything was rushed when Celena entered her brother's chambers. The sight galled her. The nurse and another maid were noisily cleaning up a shattered water pitcher while Allen's faint calls were left fairly ignored. When Celena had entered, the maid had immediately tried to explain that Allen woke up with such a start that it frightened Jeyla to the point of dropping the pitcher. Where was Nurse Claudine during all this? Celena didn't have the mind to ask.

"Leave the blasted pitcher and clean it up later. For goodness sake, give my brother and I some peace!" Neither nurse nor maid questioned the young girl's commanding tone and did as was asked of them, leaving Allen and Celena completely alone. She knelt by his bedside, like she had done just that morning, ignoring the water that seeped at her knees. He had been calling for her, saying her name over and over in whispers. It's no wonder the maid and nurse didn't hear him.

"Celena?" whispered Allen hoarsely, coughing lightly.

"I'm here, brother. I'm right here." She didn't notice herself gripping his bedspread. She could already feel herself shaking at the core from the apprehension and knew it would soon spread ten fold throughout her body if she did not control herself.

"Why . . . why can't I move?" he asked. He turned his head, his eyes heavy and his face pale. Strands of his golden hair clung to his damp face.

"You're still weak, Allen. You need rest." She smiled slightly, "But I'm glad you're awake now. I didn't want the nurse taking care of you anymore. Now that you're awake, I can take care of you."

"Was it a dream?" Allen managed to ask. Celena's breath caught in her throat at that moment before she felt herself gasping. She couldn't let herself cry here and certainly not now.

"No." she whispered. It was Allen's turn to gasp, swallowing what little moister he had in his mouth before finding his left arm. He moved it out from beneath the thick covers, heavy as it must have been for him, and slid his hand across his chest to his right side. His lips pursed and he winced as he felt the monstrosity that was now his right side. So this was his fate, he thought grimly, gingerly feeling the bandaged stump of his right arm. Though Allen's mind was still too dazed to fully understand exactly what sort of impact this would have on his future.

Thoughts now whirled about in the fallen knight's mind. He had achieved so many great things at such a young age; so many things that men spend their whole lives trying to accomplish. Allen had done it all before the age of twenty. Ruefully, he supposed that it was only natural that his great achievements ended at that particular point in his life. Was it punishment for his sins? Did the gods simply not favor him any longer? He had, after all, fathered an illegitimate son through consorting with royalty. He had been a bandit during years where everything seemed lost to him, robbing and injuring defenseless travelers on the roads of the swamplands. He took advantage of so many different people in his life and perhaps, to keep his ego in check, such a loss was called for. It all seemed so ironic to him just then, when he thought his life was finally at peace. He laughed. It began lightly, as a huff of slight amusement before progressing to a chuckle and soon he nearly roared with laughter.

Celena stared at him, if in shock or sympathy she could not say. All the girl knew was that within the last few moments, her brother had gone mad. She didn't think she could take much more of his morbid amusement, standing and covering her mouth, watching him with wide, tear-filled eyes. Allen lay in bed, shaking slightly from his laughter and Celena had to wonder how he even had the energy to laugh so enthusiastically. The laughter changed at that moment, when Allen brought his left and only hand to his face in an attempt to hide it. He was only half successful, unable to completely cover his face and lacking another hand. It was then that Celena heard the laughter change into tears.

Allen cried. His sister's heart, already fragile from emotional wear, finally shattered with the first sounds of the knight's sobs. Celena had never seen a grown man cry before but didn't think anything could be worse than watching her brother cry so adamantly. There she stood by his bedside, crying along with him. Only after while did she try to touch him, tenderly at his hairline to brush away stray locks of blond hair. Her hand was quickly batted away. She whimpered.

"Leave me be." Allen said hoarsely, not caring for her or anyone. As far as he was concerned, she only led him to this fate.

"I'm sorry." she said quietly. Perhaps she knew what he was thinking at that moment and apologized for what she thought she caused him. Or did she apologize for trying to comfort her distraught sibling? Allen didn't care. He only pushed her hands further away from him as she tried to adjust the bedspread back over him.

"Go away!" he fairly yelled, "leave me alone! Just leave me, for gods' sake! Leave me!" The last word he choked, covering his face once more. Celena sniffed, her lips in a trembling frown before turning away and running out the door.