CHAPTER THIRTY NINE - HOW TO DO AN UNDOING
The first week of classes at the school passed without incidence. Classes progressed nicely and as Sarah had expected, the goblins were only too eager to learn as it turned out. The Shadow King kept out of Jareth's castle, but to eavesdrop from some disguised location, giving everyone time to lull into a false sense of security, and lull they did..
"If I may," Jareth requested as he stood at the table, his glass raised high. All eyes turned to him, "Thank you. We come together tonight to celebrate the completion of the first week of classes held in the schoolhouses built, and rebuilt, by Mason." There was a small round of applause for the dwarf. Hoggle sat quietly a hurt expression on his face. Sarah tugged at the king's frock coat and pointed, "With Hoggle's help of course."
"I didn't do much," Hoggle sighed. Sarah smiled across the banquet table at him.
"Everyone has done a phenomenal amount to help make lady Sarah's dream a reality, especially our fine instructors," Jareth acknowledged the goblins to his right and the room erupted with shouts and applause.
Among them there was some discussion until one was chosen. It was the father of six who Sarah formed a close bond with from the time of his interview. "We cumulatively wish to thank the lady Sarah for the opportunity she has given us to give opportunity to others." His eyes teared and words choked in his throat. "For a great many years my father's father passed his knowledge to generations of my humble family and among the lessons he taught was that no breathing thing was any better than another because of his education, only more responsible to share what he has acquired. What you have presented me does more than satisfy my responsibility. It's not just the future which stands to benefit, but the past that stands to be fulfilled."
Sweetly, Sarah smiled back at him. Her lips refused to form a reply, but the streaks racing to her chin from her eyes were answer enough. A quivering hand rose to her mouth and then waved a kiss back at the lot of them.
"And so, this concludes this evening's celebration. Thank you for joining us, please feel constantly welcome in our home and safe travels to you this night." Jareth bowed himself at the final round of applause. When only the residents of the castle remained the king made one final announcement. "Business of another nature takes me from the castle this night as well. I will be at the service of the Cleric and my assistant knows of my whereabouts if I am needed. Sarah my love, would you kindly escort me upstairs where I can gather my things." Obediently she rose, taking his arm and following him to their room.
"I'm rather certain we should move tonight. It is me after all whose been doing all the spying up 'til now. He plans to honor the mortal's tradition of spending the night before her wedding separate from her betrothed. He'll be alone in the meadow by the falls, waiting patiently for morning so he can go to collect the Cleric." The Shadow King took on a gleeful look as he continued, "As he lies in blissful dream we'll bind him and carry him off into the wood, I'll step into his place, marry our sweet princess and by morning's light, we'll make you king and slaughter Jareth in the public square."
"It's brilliant," Tiberon agreed, "but doesn't it all seem a bit like they've played into our hand?"
"Of course it does you idiot. They have played into our hand. None of them suspects a thing."
"Ever hear the expression too good to be true?" Tiberon asked the king.
Jareth's double only laughed back, "What about not looking a gift horse in the mouth? You know Tibby, you've become a very unessential portion of this plan. If you're feeling chicken all of a sudden, I could just sneak into the woods myself tonight, kill Jareth in his sleep and assume his identity as well as his throne."
"You ungrateful wretch," Tiberon hurled at him.
"Now, now, mind your temper. Ruling some place as droll as the Underground doesn't hold the slightest bit of interest for me. It's yours for the taking, it would just be nice to see you want it a bit more."
"You couldn't understand want. You have no idea what it's like to deserve something all these years and then finally be able to taste it," Tiberon told him. "It makes one worry about what's been overlooked."
"Tell me I've no idea, eh. Exactly what you think it's been like being me all this time. I had brilliant ideas on how to run that wasteland. Superb notions of turning the goblins into slaves and now their being educated, by a mortal. All the while he moped about after she was gone, all the while he let his empire crumble, all the while he wasted what he had earned by nothing more than surviving the process of birth. Don't you think it occurred to me once in all that time it was the darker king who should have survived? The one who knew what to do with authority?" The Shadow King stepped close to the Representative. "Do I understand the want? I do, but I have grown so far passed the want that I gladly hand the kingdom to you for the pleasure of revenge. That's my motivation. Have all that belongs to him in this life, but I," his eyes grew black as he tightened his hand around Tiberon's throat, "I shall have the life." The Representative's feet had left the floor and his face had begun to grow pale just before the Shadow King threw him to the floor and started for the Northwest sector.
"Your mortal traditions are silly," Jareth told her as he kissed her once more. "The mere notion that I'm complying with them should be well rewarded on our wedding night." His jagged teeth nipped her neck.
"What more reward do you desire than our union?" Sarah asked coyly.
"None, my love. You are the greatest reward this life can give me." His lips met hers once more and they kissed as if their very lives depended on those moments to sustain them. "Until tomorrow," he told her , kissing the back of her hand, he vanished.
Sarah lie on the bed, the heat of her king's affection still warm on her lips. Since she was just a little girl, she'd imagine this night, perhaps more than she had imagined the wedding night. Virgin bride was a delusion she'd let go of at a relatively young age, but that anticipation of becoming a wife, that had lasted the test of time. And it was more intense in her now than she had dreamed. Her eyes wanted to rest, to appear perfect for the tomorrow, but each time they closed, they sprung open again, far too eager for the sun to rise. She readied for bed in one of the silk chemises Jareth had made for her and slipped between the sheets made cold by his absence. The stars seemed to cling in the night sky as she looked on praying for morning until her tired eyes gave way to the inevitability of sleep and the probability of dream.
Just as anxious as his soon to be bride, Jareth walked to the falls when he could have as easily snapped and been there. Traveling so primitively gave him a chance to reflect on just how lucky he was. Sure he was marrying the woman he loved for what seem like all his life, for to him life had only truly begun when she had become a part of it. But there was more, more he wagered that even he had not begun to learn. The night air was like a stern hand on his cheek. Wide awake he reached the water's edge. A thousand fire fairies trimmed it's edge while the other woodland creatures moved about.
Twink greeted him as he came close enough to see all they had done. "Whatch you think?" she asked and then quickly added, "And if you hate it, lie to me."
"Lie to you my darling girl. Since which century have I been able to do such a thing." His arms engulfed as he swung her high into the air. "My only complaint is that I can't decide which I enjoy more, this fabulous stone alter or the swags of flowers you've no doubt spent the entire day braiding."
Tiny hands swatted his chest, "Dare you set me up for that veiled compliment, why I'd knock you cold if tomorrow weren't your wedding day.
"I'm afraid I could use the remedy. Seems I can't turn my head off long enough to get any rest."
Twink hopped down from his grip. "A cup of tea then. We've set up a camp for you over the rocks," she pointed to the far side of the falls. "You go settle in and I'll have a steaming cup of chamomile for you before you can say suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus, backwards."
"Quite alright," he told her. "I'll just wait for you to get back at your leisure." There was a canvas tent set up beyond the falls, inside a thick mattress complete with a downy spread to ward off the chill. Just the way a king preferred to go roughing it. A snap of his fingers settled him into his pajamas. No sooner had he decided to test the mattress, Twink returned, tea in hand. "Thank you," he told her as he accepted the steaming beverage. You've all been most kind."
"Nonsense. You think it's only your piece of this kingdom that girl's done right by. Why the woods are the safest they have ever been and the turn out at our rings have doubled in size."
"Sarah will be pleased to know of this."
"Then perhaps I can convince the two of you to forego the tradition of a reception and join us for a festivity to pale all others."
Jareth chuckled, "Perhaps we shall. Now into the wood with you," he admonished playfully. "A fey has got to get some sleep before he's taken out of the single circle for all of eternity."
"Or perhaps just taken out," the Shadow King laughed from the bushes.
Beneath the safety of a pillow, Sarah hid from morning's light. What once she craved had now become her enemy. Head full of dreams she didn't want to end the perfect imagery of what the day could be by waking to find what the day was. Outside the security of the duvet was the obscurity of chance and as the schoolhouse had taught her no amount of planning guaranteed the anticipated result.
"Miss Sarah," Arulan sang as she came bounding through the door. "Time you woke to meet this day. Deverell has left me explicit instructions to have you ready for him when he comes to collect you."
"Collect me?" the girl asked as if she'd never heard of the plan.
Arulan sat next to her on the bed. Gently tossing the pillow aside, she broke the barricade which kept night from escaping Sarah's eyes. "You act as if you didn't know what was in store for you. A mother knows things her children never tell her," she smiled. "Everyone else around here might be able to rank all this oddness up to the success of the schools, but then why not the entire Triumvirate, why just the Cleric? And when I'm told to come and ready you, why not an ordinary shift or something adorned with beads or gems? Why this?" Her hand tapped the garment cover she'd placed over the bottom of the bed.
"Why what?"
"This," the elf threw back the silk drapes that covered the gown. The top was hard satin, strapless, with pearl trim. Around the waist a lavender wrap which created the waistline for layers of taffeta and crinoline which, when standing would fall easily to her feet.
"Arulan, it's amazing."
"I'm glad you think so. I won't have my son elope with some frump, now into the tub with you." Sarah's jaw hung open. "Under an elder counsel quality interrogation, Deverell cracked." Worry fogged over a normally brilliant green eyes. "No need to fret, deary. I've no intention of sneaking off to the falls to see the whole affair. I'll stay here and maintain your charade, but consider this my gift. I know it's nothing much like the dress you've chosen for the formal ceremony, but I thought it would do nicely."
"More than nice, it's fabulous." Her hands fluffed the layers of the skirt before grabbing hold of the woman who brought it to her, "Thank you Arulan! Thank you a hundred times!"
"For what? I didn't do a thing for there is nothing to do anything for. Now into the tub with you before your late for nothing." A wide grin on her face she practically dragged Sarah from the bed and shoved her into the bathroom.
"Something isn't right." Deverell said as he pulled his boots over the legs of his breeches, "Something just isn't right."
"What's the matter?" Arulan asked as she hurried around him, pulling on his shirt and doublet, straightening his hair. "Shoes too tight?"
"No, it's not the shoes. It's not the clothes. It's not the hair. I don't know what it is." He threw his hands up in frustration, "But something isn't right."
"Well you best figure out what doesn't seem right quickly enough."
The king's assistant fell down into a chair nearby and groaned. Slipping his fingers inside the top of his boot he noticed they were a little loose. "Maybe I'm making something out of nothing."
"For everyone's sake, I hope you're right." From the closet she pulled out his coat and dress sword. "Come come, I still have Sarah to dress."
Slipping into the jacket, Deverell straightened his lapels. "I'm sure it's my nerves." Arulan reached to fashion his belt around his hips. "Tell me again why I'm carrying a sword?"
"It's a dress sword. Think of it like jewelry. This is a formal occasion and you should look the part even if you're not functional."
"Not functional," he raised a brow. "Now I know why Jareth keeps you from the motivational speeches."
The elf blushed. "Beg pardon sir, I didn't mean...I was talking about..."
His hand caressed her cheek lightly, "Dear woman, I know what you meant. I was making light to alleviate my own nervousness. You've Sarah to get ready, no sense in you wasting any more time with me."
"As well I do." She left him to his tugging at hems and adjusting sleeves, from the doorway she looked back one last time and smiled as she watched him restyle his hair one last time.
When she'd left him, Deverell went to his bureau and from beneath a stack of shirts, pulled the one accessory he knew would make him feel less anxious.
"Just a few more buttons and..." Sarah turned to see herself in the mirror. Her hair pinned up and curled, and her eyes done up in a soft lavender to match the sash. "Now we'll tie this up," Arulan told her as she straightened the large bow in the small of Sarah's back. "You look like a perfect doll," the elf told her.
"That's just it, Arulan. How am I going to get out of the castle without everyone suspecting something?"
"Ah, ha," Arulan told her. "Slip these on." Before her on the floor, Arulan placed two crystal slippers.
"Now I know this is all a fairytale," Sarah sighed, pinching herself on the arm. "Ouch! You're serious. Glass slippers?"
"Crystal dear. No time to waste. Step in."
"Arulan how are crystal slippers going to get me passed the staff unnoticed."
"Come now, what would you do in any other fairytale?"
Un easily Sarah balanced on her toes and clicking her heals together, "There's no place like...the waterfall?" she guessed.
Giggling madly Arulan stopped her. "Heaven's no. I meant Deverell would sneak you out while I distract everyone else. Ten minutes," the elf took her by the shoulders. "Good luck." Hurrying away she ran off to cry in private.
"Be sure he can't move his hands, not one inch," Tiberon remind the Shadow King as he secured Jareth deep in the wood. "Hurry! Hurry! The Cleric's going to be waiting."
"Repeat that one more time, was it that you wanted this chore done quickly or effectively?"
Tiberon paced nervously before them. "Save your sarcasm for someone who gives a damn."
"You give a damn don't you Jareth, my sweet," he asked his double with a quick pat on his full mane. "Shame I've got to keep you gagged this way. I do so love to listen to you wax poetic at me about how to better my soul." Jareth garbled something over the wad of cloth wedged deep between his jaws. "Save your strength your majesty. You want to look your best when we string you up in the square tomorrow."
The king struggled to set himself free, his eyes raging at the imposter wearing his face. They knew as they looked at him, they were lucky to have him restrained. Set loose, he'd have no doubt taken them both on and the fire in his stare suggested he would have been victorious. "Not so much as a finger able to wiggle," Tiberon noted, admiring the Shadow King's work. "I've been too hard on you. Perhaps you deserve some reward. I know," the Representative seemed thoughtful for a moment, "might I offer you a bride."
"A bride say you. I was just thinking how someone with all I have to offer, really ought to have someone to share it all with." Gathering up the outfit Jareth had chosen especially for his elopement, the Shadow King had only snap his fingers and he was dressed. "This," he indicated Jareth's dress sword, "will never do." Another spell and cold iron replaced the ornamental blade. "My mortal deserves the best," he boasted.
Linking arms, they left the forest, prattling on with their snide remarks about Sarah as they went.
"Jareth!" the Cleric welcomed him with considerable gusto. "Today is the day then, eh? And your palm is dry as sand. No nerves here, then. Well let's get you to your bride before our little secret is discovered shall we?"
"Indeed," the Shadow King smiled crookedly as he walked behind the Cleric.
Tiberon watched on from the rocks as the Cleric stood at the alter, the Shadow King straight as an arrow, watching down the path for Deverell and the mortal. At the back of the aisle the fairies had created with garland and lace, he left the smiling bride, a reassuring hug and joined his master's twin before the Cleric. "Arulan said you'd be in your dress best," Deverell noted, lifting the scabbard that hung from Jareth's hip. The king shifted uncomfortably. "You are one lucky man," Deverell reminded him as Sarah slowly approached them.
"Yeah, lucky, that's me," he replied. Deverell chalked it up to nerves.
Slowly she seemed to float toward them, in her arms a single orchid, a symbol that spoke of love and beauty. Each step brought her closer and made her thankful she could not feel her rubbery legs. This was her destiny, that fact kept her from crying. The Goblin King had chosen her and she felt made for him. A quaking hand settled into the king's when Sarah joined him at the alter. Smiling, she waited for him to say something, something about how she looked or how much he loved her, anything. The Shadow King only leered at her lasciviously. Wishing she had a shawl, Sarah drew her shoulders in as they turned to face the Cleric.
"It fills my heart with tremendous pride to be asked today to officiate this secret ceremony. To unite today two individuals whose love has infected an entire realm is the essence of my position here."
The Shadow King turned his head in an attempt to hide his smirk, but his reaction did not escape Deverell's keen eye. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Fine. I just didn't expect to get emotional so soon." Intentionally he bit his cheek to force his eyes to water.
"In observation of both the customs of a mortal and the tradition of our world, we gather here today in the company of this witness," he indicated Deverell, "to unite the Goblin King, Jareth with his beloved Sarah Williams of the Aboveground. As testimony to their union I solemnly swear I have personally witnessed the love they have professed for one another. I find them willing to lie down their lives for one another and to cling to the same for one more day together. They have learned to compromise and as evidenced by our small gathering here today, they refuse to concede when met with opposition." Sarah and the Cleric exchanged a short chuckle at his well worded proclamation. "Before the Supreme One and the mortal's God, I testify my words as truth. I now invite the members of our party to testify the same."
Deverell spoke first. "All I knew of the Goblin King was legend when I was sent to be his servant. All I heard seemed a contradiction when he took me in his wing and groomed me to fill the position that I hold in his home. All I knew of mortals was told to me around the fire in the eerie gloom of night like some horror story, but meeting the lady Sarah dispelled those myths the moment I saw her take charge to rush to the king's aid when he was attacked. Since then I have watched them work together to better this kingdom. I have watched them bring the best out of their subjects and the best out of each other."
From behind the rocks Tiberon rolled his eyes.
"Sarah love, ladies first," the Shadow King nudged.
"I didn't know we'd be expected to say anything," she admitted.
The Cleric reached for her, "Speak from your heart dear."
"What can I possibly say now, I haven't already said." She sighed, "When we first met, I found you a pretentious, selfish, monarch whose confidence was higher than his IQ, but since I've been back, I've found that you have a number of layers, each necessary and each loveable to a point. As with any work of art, abstract and impressionistic, he is best viewed in his entirety. To see the whole of him, is to know the whole of myself. I am unfinished without him to share my life."
"Well said," the Cleric applauded. "Jareth."
Normally not at a lack for words, the king now stuttered as he spoke, "I...I...If someone were to ask me if I thought I would ever take my place beside this fetching maid," Deverell cringed at the words he'd chosen, "I would have told them they were mad, but here we stand, against all odds, despite how much some individuals protested this union. I will have this woman for my queen, this beautiful woman. Together we will rule the Underground, continue to better it and populate it with our brood."
The Cleric looked strangely at the king. The bottom of Sarah's stomach felt like it had fallen out. From behind them came a booming growl, "Now that's something I would never say!"
"Jareth?" Sarah cried when she turned to see him standing there, identical in every superficial way to the man at her side.
"Come to me Sarah, quickly." The crystal slippers on her feet slowed her some as she threw the orchid from her arms.
Filling his hands with the lavender bow, the Shadow King lunged for her. "What's the matter darling?" he asked pulling her into his grip. "Cold feet?"
"Let her go!" the Goblin King shouted.
The cleric stood stunned, watching them react to one another. "What's going on?"
"I believe my king gave you an order," Deverell said while trying to explain what his eyes saw. "Let her go."
Sarah had begun to cry, not surprisingly. Jareth moved closer to them, but his advance only seemed to bring laughter to the Shadow King. The Cleric, had asked for an explanation of this, but Jareth asked him to stay out of it in order to keep him from implicating himself. His position was not to uphold the law and muddying his hands in this fight without the Gavel to pass judgment could only stand to have him dethroned. So he watched on helplessly.
"I'll call him off, if you let the mortal go," Jareth wagered him.
His offer didn't seem to phase the duplicate king, other that is to say than to increase his laughter. As Jareth saw in his peripheral vision the Cleric fall to the ground, he realized why. Tiberon had left his harbor of stone, knocking out the clergyman and showing his face for the first time. "No deal Goblin King," he announced.
"Why am I not surprised? Tiberon, you've already struck down a member of the Triumvirate, your fate is sealed. Why give them more to try you for?"
"Oh, it's so like you," the Representative raged. "Had you just stayed put, the Shadow King would have married your little whore and returned to your kingdom, accepted by everyone as king. In the morning I would have staged a siege on the castle, at which time your battered body would be drug in to substitute for his and the entire realm would have celebrated your public execution in the square upon the request of the king. Then when the formal marriage had taken place, Jareth and his eager young bride would have renounced the throne and gone off to start their lives together." His paces brought him closer to Sarah and as he turned his attention to her Jareth made his way closer to the group mesmerized by the fear on his mortal's face. Tiberon's hand swept over her open chest and Sarah's breath hitched between sobs. "Appointing, before they left, the rightful king to hold the throne which should always have been his." Turning to face Jareth who was now only a few steps away, the Representative added, "But you don't seem to care about what I want."
"Not particularly," Jareth admitted.
Reaching around the mortal, his hand hugging close to her form, Tiberon withdrew the Shadow King's sword from his scabbard. "Let's finish this," he said into Jareth's mismatched eyes.
"Tiberon, let's be logical. What can two unarmed men do against you in battle?"
Lacing his arm around the Shadow King's throat, Deverell's impetuousness bested him and through gnashed teeth he offered, "I'll snap his neck at your command majesty." The Shadow King only laughed wildly at the suggestion.
"Snap his neck and I'll run her through," Tiberon countered. The Shadow King buried his head into Sarah's neck, kissing her and tasting her flesh. "They make a lovely couple don't they?" the Representative antagonized.
Unable to take another moment of what his love was being subjected to, Jareth charged at Sarah's mid-section knocking her loose of the Shadow King's grip. Deverell, having let loose the king when he saw Jareth set to charge, was quickly by her side, fending off the Representative as she drug the helpless Cleric to safety. "Best we keep the dead weight out of the way," Tiberon told him as the two kings scuffled. "Oompa," he shouted as he hoisted the sword back to the Shadow King. Replacing the blade to his belt mad him now virtually indistinguishable from the true king.
Deverell made a jump at the now unarmed Representative. "To protect the kingdom, I will kill you myself, if it is what's to be."
"Leave me be boy. It isn't your blood I want to spill," Tiberon told him refusing to fight back.
One of the kings spoke up. "Deverell, let this end. We can take Sarah home and leave these villains to the hands of the Triumvirate who will no doubt come for them when the Cleric does not return home."
The other king added. "While I agree with my adversary that this must be ended, it is I who is your king Deverell, do not listen to this imposter."
"He is the imposter," the first king reiterated.
"Rich! Lovely and rich," Tiberon said gleefully from the ground. "A game of whose who. What a splendid way to spend the afternoon."
The first king lunged at Tiberon, belting him square in the face, "If I were not the king would I attack my own master?"
"I've taught you to interpret your surroundings better than this Deverell, you know who is the real king and who is the imposter."
"So I do," Deverell said as he grabbed the king closest to him, the one which had just punched Tiberon. "You shall no longer disrespect my king," he announced, his fist digging deep into the fey's gut, pushing the air from his lungs.
"Deverell you fool, I am your king!"
"Then let me beg the mercy of the Supreme One for the wrongs I commit, both those I have done knowingly and those I have done unbeknownst." Deverell drew back his fist and buried it a second time.
The king withdrew his sword, "If you insist upon fighting me, let's make it a fair fight, shall we."
Deverell drew his dress sword, "If that is what you insist on, but a blunted blade will do neither of us any good." The king seemed shocked to see he'd pulled a dull blade.
Tiberon eyed the king at his side. "Shall we pair off?" he offered the Representative, drawing the blade he wore. It was a true sword.
"Have you gone mad? Sit and watch what we have created. The king is about to die at the hands of his very assistant." Tiberon told him.
"The Goblin King is a selfish man, Tiberon. Don't forget that. Even when he claims to give away all of what he has, he finds a way to retain just a fraction."
"Your point?" he asked nonchalantly as he watched the men in the field before him clashing their non-weapons as if it were a real battle.
The cold edge of a sword pressed against Tiberon's throat. "He is not everything evil about me."
"Clever," Tiberon told him as he bent back at the pressure of the blade. "You managed to change the sword."
"Fast hands from centuries of doing magic."
"Fast hands and a sharp tongue," he jabbed. "You mean to kill me then? The way you killed my father! Have at it! Show your hussy what it is you truly are beneath your pin on heart of gold."
"I mean for you to live, but only to regret this day." Pulling back his sword, Jareth offered, "Draw if you wish to fight, otherwise concede and consider yourself captured."
"What fun would that be?" he asked the king before drawing his sword and matching the dance of the other men in the field.
While the sounds of clashing metal rang on in Sarah's ears, she tried to revive he Cleric. Small hands snapped against his cheeks, her tears rebounding off his closed eyelids and all to no avail. His body lie limp in her arms and unyielding weight in her lap. His pulse and his breathing the only signs that life had not abandoned him.
Against the trunk of a tree, the Shadow King had pinned the young fey. Unpredictable changes in terrain set Deverell off balance just long enough for him to lose the stalemate. The dull metal sword pressed against his throat like a stick, forcing him to gurgle as he gasped for air. "Tell me why I should spare you?"
"For one, you're using a dress sword." Deverell told his attacker.
The Shadow King spat back. "There is more than one way to die. I am your king and you refuse me. The enemy collected secrets from our kingdom and you gave them away willingly and do not think I haven't noticed the way you eye my bride."
"She's not your bride." Guilt tore at the young fey's soul as he tried to sound bold, confident that this was not his true king, despite the doubts he had.
Pressing the stick deeper into his throat, The Shadow King continued, "Because of you. You went to investigate Tiberon, did you not, or was that a ploy to give the enemy more details? I've lost my mortal and my kingdom, my very pride to you."
Reconsidering the events of the last few weeks, Deverell thought about the odd behavior of the king. How much it seemed like the behavior he saw now. Almost motionlessly he slid his heel along the trunk. "It was you," he accused "All this time you've been trying to turn me against the king, you who knocked down the schoolhouse. You infiltrated the kingdom, posed as his majesty."
"Do you hear how ludicrous you sound?" The Shadow King asked.
Searching the top of his boot, Deverell's nimble fingers pulled out the dagger he'd stored there earlier for good measure. This was not his king, not Jareth. Why his king had himself warned Deverell when he used this same showy tactic of it's vulnerability. If he could keep him distracted long enough to get a sturdy hold on the blade, he could best him. "You had access to the lady Sarah, to all of Jareth's servants and subjects."
"And what direct access I had too," the king laughed as his tongue flicked in and out against his bared teeth. "No one questioned me. Not a one of you. Not even the virtuous lady Sarah, but it would have been more difficult for her, what with mouth over hers as it werrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."
Between a moan and a growl the hard consonant of his final word dribbled from his lips as Deverell plunged the dagger deep into the Shadow King's ribs. Warm and sticky was the blood that covered him, as he stared in disbelief. "I should have liked to have you for a disciple, for you are more deceitful than I gave you credit for," the near lifeless king spoke.
"I worship no false king," Deverell proclaimed, tossing the body aside. "Least of all this one." His feet carried him fast to Jareth's side.
"Your advisor comes our way bloodied," Tiberon announced.
Jareth gritted his teeth, "Save your lies."
"I am the son of a nobleman," he countered.
"Let's not go so far as that." Despite the accompanying rational conversation, the fighting continued.
It was Sarah's shrill voice that ultimately staved them. "Jareth it's true. Deverell, are you hurt?" she called.
"This blood is not mine," he told them in disgust as he approached. "Your Shadow King is dead, Tiberon. Give up this fight."
Part of Jareth knew before the boy arrived, felt all that was cold about him die, but the confirmation filled him with an odd sense of grief and satisfaction combine. "There is no one left to take your side," Jareth told him. "Lay down your sword now and I will plead they take pity on you."
"You wait until now to show me compassion. Now when I have no one. Even if your merciful Gavel sends me free, to whom shall I return? If you want to show me compassion, kill me. End my torment, do yourself the favor." Tiberon fell to his knees and cast aside his weapon. "You know my tendencies, if I am free, I will only lie in wait until I am again presented with someone eager enough to try to best you again. Heed me when I promise you that next time I will kill the girl first."
In that moment Jareth saw himself, felt his arm pull back the weapon, watched the tip as it came ever closer to the Representative's chest. Tiberon waited, his eye closed, satisfied his death would not be blamed upon the king, but knowing those who watched him die would always wonder if the bit of evil only minutes earlier Jareth had proudly declared still his, hadn't got the better of him just then and when it might get the better of him again. As quickly as the blade advanced it stopped when it met his chest. "Until now, I have always treated you different, maybe it was my hate or my conceit, but in the end, I owe you fairness. That is why I'll keep you here to face the judgment of the Triumvirate, because that is what is fair."
"Since when have you been fair?" Tiberon shouted. "The girl will tell you. Is the Goblin King fair? Answer truthfully, when has he been fair?" Sarah and Deverell looked on in disbelief as the Representative went mad before their eyes. "Will you remain blind to him until the end? He is your false king, he is your turncoat. I may be evil, but I have never pretended to be anything but!"
"Silence!" The Gavel stood behind Jareth as he spoke with authority. "Healer, tend to our brother. Jareth unhand this man." The king stepped away. The Gavel used his magic to shackle the Representative. "Tiberon, you are charged with crimes of treason and attempted slaying. How do you plead?" Despite his remaining silent, his face showed the guilt. "Games are not something I prefer to play. Were you engaged in a plot to over throw the king?"
"Yes."
"Did you conspire with another whom you passed off as the king as part of that plot?"
"Yes."
"Are you responsible for the condition of the Cleric?"
"Yes."
"Did you threaten and/or display the intent to kill the king?"
"Yes," he admitted almost proudly.
"And the lady Sarah?"
"Yes,"
"Tiberon, Representative of the Southeast sector of the Underground, son of Darien, former King of the Underground and Liril, a commoner, you are charged with the crimes to which you plead guilty. It is the judgment of this court that you be remanded to the mountains where you will await trial and sentencing." The Gavel's arms rose high above his head and Tiberon disappeared. "As for you Jareth, what actions have you taken that find us here today?"
Having well since made his way to his mortal's side, Jareth braced her shoulders, "Last night as I lie in my tent, they came. Into the wood they took me, deep into the wood where I was restrained. Twink, whom I had informed of our plan made ready the details which greeted you when you arrived and by chance she wandered back to watch in secret. That was when she found me, by the grace of the Supreme One and set me free. I readied myself in a duplicate of the outfit which had been stolen, turning their plan to my advantage and including a functional sword, then sent her for the rest of the Triumvirate."
Deverell joined them, "Surely you knew your secret would be revealed if they found us?"
"Aye," Jareth told him as he stood. He shook the fey's hand and embraced him. "As you fought so bravely for those you cared strongly for, I too rank my personal pursuits below the lives of those I love."
"Moving, but his secret of yours," the Gavel stole back the conversation, "is not something I can allow."
"As well I suspected. It was my plan for us to elope here by the falls today."
"Elope?" the Gavel asked.
Sarah spoke this time, "It is a mortal concept, to marry in secret prior to the arranged wedding date. It is an idea I orchestrated."
"Not alone I am sure?" She averted her eyes. "You speak without making a sound, miss."
"It wasn't her idea. I believed that if I married her in secret you would have no way of sending her back. The entire plan was mine," Sarah clung to his arm. "And the Cleric's participation was at my request. He was against this from the start."
Beside them the elder stirred, "Speak for me when I am dead, but breath fills these lungs and my days of doing as others suggest to me are long since passed." He struggled to sit up while the healer tried to hold him to the ground. "Let me alone. I agreed to marry them here tonight because I believe in their union. I believe in what the girl has done and if the mortals can show change than aren't we obligated to show it in return. You claim you're a victim to the law, but your chains are made by elders past, you forge each link with your own fear."
"If I were in your current situation, brother, I would choose my words carefully. Your deception here today jeopardizes your position in our counsel," the Gavel reminded.
Rising to his feet, the Cleric disputed him. "I committed no deception. I went where I told you I was going to meet with Jareth as I told you I intended. You never asked me if I was to marry them or even the nature of our meeting. It is not our way to blame the person doing the replying when the wrong questions are asked."
"He's right," Jareth added.
"He makes a point. Even so, you disobeyed an order of the Triumvirate."
"In fact your highness, I did not. We neither engaged in mating nor did we plan to move up the date of our wedding or to replace that holy event with this elopement."
"All this aside for now, there are matters more delicate to be decided here. Sarah's work with the schools has been successful, or so I am told. I did not believe before now I would send her Aboveground, but this whole event has made something clear to me..."
"Damn it!" Jareth shouted. "We have done everything you've asked. We have sacrificed. We have made modifications and improvements to the kingdom. I will not let her be punished for the love we share. I won't allow it. I forbid it!"
"Be that as it may," the Gavel went on, "I was about to say that after all that has transpired here today the thing which has become abundantly clear is that Ms. Williams should be christened as quickly as possible for her own protection." He turned to the Cleric, "If you feel you are capable of performing a ceremony which will not be held in secret."
"Quite capable," the Cleric agreed.
"Jareth, I can only assume that if you had an objection, you would have well since voiced it by now."
"No objection."
"Fine then, let us all take the rest of this day for rest. In the morning your garden will host this Christening," the Gavel announced.
"Tomorrow?" Sarah asked.
In reply, the Gavel questioned, "Are you not ready to become a member of this realm, Ms. Williams?"
"Quite the opposite," she quickly retorted. "You mistake my shock for doubt. Why the very idea of becoming one with this world makes me giddy."
She was learning about living here, undoubtedly. "Of course." The Gavel pursed his lips, "Brothers, if we may." The Triumvirate stood side by side only momentarily before they disappeared.
Sarah fell into the arms of her king. "Jareth, they're going to move up the Christening. This is fabulous." As much as he wanted to share her joy, he was too worried about what would happen afterwards to fully enjoy this moment.
Back at the castle, Jareth stood in one of the downstairs sitting rooms. "Does anyone else know what was expected to happen today?"
Sarah and Deverell looked intently at one another. "Arulan," they both said.
"Of course," Jareth said. "It certainly explains the dress, which by the way suited you." A wave of the king's hand and Deverell's clothes were fresh and less formal, as were his and Sarah's. "Go and collect Arulan for me while I have a talk with Sarah." Taking a seat that faced him, the mortal's face was bathed in guilt. "I'm not angry," he started.
"Well I am," Sarah countered unexpectedly. "I'm angry at them. I'm angry at us. I'm angry at your world, and mine." Pulling her into his arms Jareth tried to soothe her, but the tirade went on. "How can you not be angry?" Sarah asked tearfully. "Tiberon has managed to do this twice now, twice Jareth! And what's to stop him this time? The slap on the hand the Gavel gives him? If the Triumvirate would have listened to you last time, he wouldn't have been free to do this. If I had just listened to you the first he wouldn't have been able to do what he did to Turgomon." And then it occurred to her, the thought she never imagined she'd have, the regret, "If I'd never come here..."
"Don't," Jareth told her as he stooped to meet her eyes, "don't even think it. My life without you is not worth living. You're not being here is no option. Yes I'm angry. Angry with Tiberon, angry at myself, but not at you, never at you. Sarah, you were only trying to do what made me happy. I couldn't be angry at you for that. We must all prepare for what is to happen now. You are staying Underground, this much we know and in a few short hours you will be made fey, but there are things the Triumvirate can still do to us and I want us to be ready for it." Sarah shook her head before burying it his neck.
From the hall, Deverell heard the shouting and waited patiently for what sounded like a more appropriate time to enter. Arulan clung to the hand he offered her and waited at his side. When at last the room grew still, they knocked gently and were told to come in. Arulan ran to Sarah's side to offer her sympathies. "Poor, sweet dear," she cried. "Such a pretty bride you would have been no matter the number of guests." Arulan kissed the girl's forehead.
"I told her the bulk of it on our way over," Deverell explained. Reading the king as he had gotten rather good at doing, the assistant added, "I assumed you would rather discuss the consequences in person."
Pride shown on Jareth's face when he answered back, "Indeed."
"Consequences?" Arulan asked, panic in her voice.
"I'm afraid there are a number of things we should consider," Jareth said steadily. "The most urgent being Sarah's Christening." Clutching the girl Arulan gasped. "I'll expect you and Deverell to handle the details for the event, as Sarah will need her rest tonight."
"Naturally," Arulan offered "When should I ready the castle for?"
"Tomorrow," Jareth told her bluntly.
The elf eyed Deverell, "There are a few things you've left out I see." He smiled roguishly at her. "Tomorrow it shall be then," Arulan promised.
"After the Christening, the Triumvirate with begin doling out their justice. Deverell," the fey snapped his attention to the king, "you have the least to worry over. Your killing the Shadow King will mean very little once I refuse to take ill will at the crime. He was after all an extension of my self. Sarah you're not being sent home, but I fear the Triumvirate with wish to punish us, assigning you to another sector as part of the Christening, further delaying our ceremony, I'm unsure, but I anticipate it. I will accept what ever punishment they give me as long as it doesn't effect you." His blond mane nodded in the mortal's direction. "What I worry most over is that they may try to disband the Cleric. That would be a travesty, to them, to us, to this realm. He is an honest and decent elder with a progressive mind, his only crime.:
"What about Tiberon?" Deverell asked.
"What of him?" Jareth questioned.
The fey left his casual lean against the mantel for a more serious posture, "Is he not to be punished for his crimes?"
"He may be tried," the king hung his head, "or he may be dealt with privately by the Triumvirate."
"They don't know what all he's done, what all he has had his pet monster do!" His rant drew Sarah's attention. "I was there with it in the last minutes of its life and it confessed to me their plan, confessed to me what it had done to lady Sarah...'s schoolhouse," he added as the blood drained from her face.
"Tiberon is responsible for the schoolhouse?" Arulan asked.
Then she realized. Then Sarah realized what had happened. The Shadow King had returned, well before the elopement, disguised as Jareth's exact physical duplicate and extracted all the useful bits and pieces he need for his plot. "He came here, the Shadow King and he tricked us all in to sharing details with, giving him exactly what he wanted." Sarah looked away from Jareth then and into Deverell's eyes. 'He knows,' she thought. His look confirmed it. Huge, sympathetic pools sadly looking her over trying to absolve her of a disgust no wash could wear away. "He pretended to be Jareth and that day at the schoolhouse, he took his chance to not only ruin our plans, but to kill us both." From the room she fled like a shot. Her body shook with tears as she wondered if Jareth could forgive what she had done.
"Tiberon will be dealt with, by my life I swear that. He will be kept away from us all," Jareth grabbed his assistant by the arm. "And when that is through, they will have us find a new Representative for that sector. I leave it to your wisdom to chose the fey Deverell. Tomorrow when they come I will demand a trial which I will also demand we attend and we will have the name of his replacement ready on our tongues." He nodded at his king. "Enough then, I must tend to Sarah, both of you ready this castle for the most spectacular Christening we have ever conducted.
When Jareth stepped into the room he shared with Sarah to find her face down in the bedding muffling her wails, he rushed tenderly to her side. "What is it that troubles you so much you would run from me?"
"I can't marry you," she cried refusing to look his way, not that it would have done any good to bother. Her sight was obscured by her tears.
"What do you mean you cannot marry me?" This time he forced her to face him. "Sarah, love, I already told you that I cannot have you go away. Have I done something to damage the love you have for me? I pray you tell me it is not something I cannot undo."
"It's not what you have done, it's what I have done and regardless of what I wish, this is not so easily undone."
"Tell me what it is you fear you've ruined and let me but those fears at bay."
'He had a right to know,' Sarah reasoned to herself. "Jareth, when the Shadow King was here, I didn't know it wasn't you. After all I told you about memorizing the stride of your step, the feel of your breath, I couldn't even recognize an imposter." Hanging her head, she sobbed once more.
"Your confession does not surprise me." Sarah's eyes rose to his as he continued, "The Shadow King is a part of me, love. The darkest and most ugly one as you have seen, but it is me and with his magic he could have made himself so indistinguishable even my own mother wouldn't know the difference." As her pink lips parted to continue her confession, Jareth read her over. He did not search for lies. He did not wish to invade her privacy. No, the king sought this time to spare her. Bringing his lips to hers, Jareth kissed her tenderly, with the fragile care of an angel's wing, the way he would have kissed her all those years ago if he could have brung himself to do it. Many times in the fifteen years they spent apart he dreamed of what it would have been like to abandon his sense and steel from her that first kiss, that innocent kiss of a girl's whose world was no larger than her own town, when the only man whose lips had ever neared her were her father's and those as chaste as the Lord's. He'd thought his chance had passed to have her that purely, but in this moment she had grown innocent again, been given reprieve from the darkness she thought had changed her.
"But..." she whispered when his lips left hers.
The cool leather of his forefinger pressed vertically beneath her nose. "Don't do it to yourself. Don't lower yourself to saying what I can guess. Whatever it was, however deeply you feel pain and embarrassment from it, you did nothing wrong. What you did, you did with me. What was done to you, was done by me. A part of me you could never love, the part which most likely kept me from you all these years, but a part as doomed to love you as I, as compelled to want you as I. Please my love, spare yourself the indignity of confessing to a crime you did not commit."
Sarah caught his lips and kissed him. Back against the mattress they collapsed, holding one another tight. "You grow to be a more amazing man every day I spend with you."
"No doubt why that is," he replied kissing her more passionately this time, kissing her until she slept.
From the window of his bed chamber, Jareth could see the chains of daisies which had been hung around the tops of the tents for the Christening. The cherry blossom tree was full and pink. Tables for food had been set and dressed. Everything draped in white and pink. Though he had performed in more than a thousand of these Christenings, Jareth was more nervous for this one than for all the others combined. Checking the clock he called to Sarah, "How are things coming? Do you need Arulan?"
"No," she replied. "I think I've got it. I'll be out in a minute."
"We've got to be down there in ten minutes."
"Keep your pants on!"
"I had no intention of removing my pants."
The door parted, "It's an expression silly." When she came through the door and into the light where he could better see her in her gown, Jareth's eyes grew wide and he seemed to follow her while she crossed the room towards him. "Do I look Okay?"
Easily able to pass for a simple wedding gown, the long white slip pooled around her feet at the floor. The overlay was transparent, hinted with a gold floret pattern, it included the sleeves of the gown which began to bell just above the elbow and hung so long and wide they looked more like wings than sleeves. In one hand she hung a collection of silver chain and in the other the ends of a long white and gold braided cord which she had tied twice around her waist.
"You look like an angel," Jareth breathed. Blushing, Sarah tuned away at his flattery. "Am I correct in assuming you had a fraction of trouble with your accessories."
"Not trouble really. This belt is far too long and this necklace has no clasp."
Taking the mangle of chains from her hand, Jareth slipped his fingers through several of the web like openings and let the silver dangle from his hand. "This is no necklace, this is a veil."
"A metal veil?"
"A silver veil." Each of the connections in the web pattern were made by a small diamond chip and from the crown a silver medallion made a peak from which a tear drop pearl hung. "Bow your head," he told Sarah. Gently he lay the veil over her hair, the rich black locks consuming the chain as the chips created a halo. The medallion rested just above the center of her forehead and the pearl fell to right above her brow line. It was as soft and delicate as the girl who wore it. "Have a look," the king told her as he spun her toward the mirror. Coming up behind her , Jareth reached his arms about her waist and began undoing the belt.
"Can't we just cut off the ends?" she asked, remembering they had but a few minutes.
"This is a ceremonial garb, love. You can't go cutting it to shreds." Holding the cord over his hand Jareth roughly determined the center point and gave a tug so one side was about four inches longer than the other. Around the collar of the dress were sewn tiny hooks. Patiently he worked a few strands of the braid into them until it framed the entire neckline.
Sarah sighed, "Thank God. I spent twenty minutes debating whether it was inside out or not."
Jareth smiled. At the lowest point on the scoop neckline, Jareth crossed the braids. Watching in the mirror to be sure his placement was symmetrical he trailed the ropes, one beneath each breast. At the middle of Sarah's back, he loosely knotted the strands, then fed them over her hips. Bring the shorter piece to the same side hip as the longer piece, he knotted them again, this time like a tie and left the two pieces to fall on slightly longer than the other from her left hip. Breathing in deeply he smelled he clean scent of her hair mixing with her more natural scents. The ability to keep from clutching her now completely lost, Jareth pulled her into him, her back to his chest, pressing his cheek to hers.
"They're going to be here any second," Sarah reminded him as in the reflection from the mirror she could see the minute hand approach the twelve.
His right hand rose and snapping his fingers they disappeared, but not before his lips grazed her ear as he sighed out, "Damn."
Before a nervous crowd gathered near the gate, Jareth and Sarah appeared just as the keys turned in the locks. Sarah hurried to Hoggle's side. As she had asked, he would be the one to present her. At precisely ten in the morning the members of the Triumvirate crossed the threshold of the gate to greet the king in his formal white attire, the family sword of legend hung from his hip. "Bring forth the girl," Jareth instructed. Holding the dwarf's's hand, they walked slowly forward. Hoggle's eyes filled with water at the sight of her and more to steady himself than anything he found himself clasping her hand with both of his. Bending low, Jareth asked, "Is that a tear I see?" as he accepted Sarah's hand from the dwarf.
"Is not," Hoggle huffed before returning to his family.
Smiling broadly Jareth wrapped his arm over Sarah's. "We humbly request this girl be christened with the name Sarah and that she be granted immortality here with us in the Underground."
A wave of his hand and the Cleric had ignited the incense burner which hung from a chain on his belt. Pachouli smoke filled the air. In an ancient language few knew, he chanted. Sarah's aura began to glow about her, all the beauty of her inner heart shining in a fortress around her body. Never had she been so lovely as in that moment, dressed in white, bathed in light, the diamond accents in her hair increasing the shimmer. The kingdom bowed before her, even Jareth, though he refused to let go over her hand. "Welcome Sarah , newest fey of the Underground. We take you into our hearts and minds forever interconnected as all things fey are. We bless happiness unto you and we draw upon the happiness of your spirit."
Slowly Sarah's aura began to retreat and as it did the pupil in her left eye enlarged until it looked the very same as Jareth's. She was fey though she retained a fair amount of her human characteristics. "Your eyes," the king whispered. Sarah looked into his eyes and saw him in away she had never seen him before. Panning the crowd, everyone looked the same and yet new.
"Jareth," her voice shook, "What's wrong with me?"
The Cleric reached for her, sliding Sarah closer to him and for the first time out of Jareth's grip. "Be still. This is a temporary adjustment. Your brain will learn to use the eye and Jareth will explain it to you later, for now we must finish the ceremony." His warm smile calmed her. "Bring forth the Representatives." Gandor, Ranofyr and Elbereth step forward and stood on their designated sides of Jareth. The open spot for Tiberon did not go unnoticed and none was happier than Sarah to see the void. "Insomuch as each of you has pledged yourselves unto this child, it is the decision of the Triumvirate that the new fey, Sarah, shall be given unto Jareth, King of the Underground. Step forth and claim your lady."
Only moments earlier, Jareth remembered having feet, remembered how to walk with them, but in the next moment the knowledge had abandoned him. Hearing the command of the Cleric, looking at his once unattainable love, draped in ceremonial clothes, her pupils marking her conversion to fey. Sarah's outstretched hand beckoned him, but he only heard the words, "Step forth and claim your lady...claim your lady."
"Jareth," the Cleric snapped, pulling him out of his hypnosis, "Step forth and claim your lady."
Grasping her hand, Jareth pulled close to her. "You have seen fit to award my people a new and beautiful lady," at describing her his voice broke. "We praise the three of you. I accept this lady and vow to keep and provide for her," Jareth's eyes left the Cleric's and shift to the side to meet Sarah's, "to the best of my ability. She will groomed to obey our laws, enjoy our realm and praise the Supreme One." The Sage steps forward with a small well in his palm and extends it to within the king's reach. Touching his finger lightly to the surface of the oil inside the tiny well, Jareth made a small triangular motion on his forehead. Then he touched the oil again before making the same motion on Sarah's forehead, beginning just above the left side of the medallion, fanning out to accommodate the pearl and then joining to the point of origin on the right side of the medallion as he repeated, "In the presence of the Gavel and of the Sage and of the Cleric, this is my vow." The enlarged pupil of both fey grew cloudy, but through the tears welling in them neither could make out the visions of love that lie within the onyx pool.
"Let us celebrate," the Cleric shouted as he tossed his hands into the air.
Jareth lifted Sarah's hand high over her head as he marched her through the crowd. Cheers and cries pelted at them as if it had been their wedding. From beneath the cherry Blossom tree, just outside the main garden, Sarah stood as the guests riffled passed her into the reception area, most stopping to offer words of appreciation, acceptance or sentiment. There was a sturdy breeze that blew through every now and again, not strong enough to disturb the guests, but enough to knock loose a few of the cherry blossoms from the branches above Sarah's head. Jareth looked on at her, stepping back to join the Triumvirate who remained behind the crowd, mid way down the gentle slope of the king's court. The pink blossoms reminded him of the snowflakes in the southeastern sector and how they had stuck in her hair, contrasting with the midnight sheen of her mane. She smiled politely, shook hands, gave hugs, an occasional kiss reserved for her dearest friends, but no matter the method of greeting her guests, she was poised, graceful and humble with them all. Already her fey confidence was filling her, for she did not search the horizon for Jareth. But already her fey senses had begun to set in too, letting her know he was near, at least near enough he could easily rush to her side if needed.
When the Gavel was headed into the garden and the Sage, busily chatting it up with the newest resident of the Underground, Jareth leaned over to the Cleric and asked, "So my friend, what will be your punishment for the crime I asked you to commit?"
"Oh, you wish to see me punished, do you?" the Cleric chuckled.
The king eyed him, "Not at all, though I anticipated it."
"Well Jareth, you should know best this is a ream of unexpected goings on, especially as of late." When the Goblin King continued to stare at him in confusion, the Cleric added, "Gavel has decided to consider the rationale I gave him at the falls yesterday. I technically did not deceive. It was he who failed himself. And so he's pushing me through on the technicality. I stand to incur no further penalty for what he calls my questionable judgment."
"None?"
"None. Your woman does fine work." He smiled at the king, patting his shoulder before trading his company for Sarah's. His long arms engulfed her. "Milady," he said, "'Tis a blessing to have you among us. Welcome..."
Minutes passed with the Cleric and Sarah as Jareth looked on at the Gavel who was being served by one of the kitchen elves. He smiled up at the petite red head who brought his plate and poured his mead. 'Smiling,' Jareth thought. Perhaps he worried too much about what would come of what had come to pass.
"Should we join them?" Sarah asked as she took the king's elbow.
"After you milady," he said with a bow.
At the head of the table sat the Cleric, Jareth to his right, Sarah to his left. The Sage started off the long row of attendants on Sarah's side while on Jareth's sat the Gavel. The banquet table made a large U along the garden, the buffet against the only open side. On a table in the center, the roasted pig was presented, carved and served. Delicious dishes of varying nature were passed on to and off of the table by the servants beginning of course with the Cleric, who out of his own personal habit served the king and Sarah before himself.
When everyone's plates and glasses were filled, they began to eat. Small conversations struck up and Jareth's curiosity got the better of him. "So Gavel, have you decided what is to be done about Tiberon?"
"Have you a suggestion for me?" he asked snidely.
"A immediate trial."
"There will be a trial Jareth, when I say there is to be a trial. Do I tell you how to run your kingdom?"
"As a matter of fact," the king replied.
The Gavel sipped from his glass, "So I do. I must learn to more carefully choose my words with so much changing here by the day. What is your great urgency?"
"I don't want him free to stage another attack when Sarah and I wed."
"I promise you," the Gavel began with great intensity, "Tiberon is caged in the mountains of the east. His trial will come and go, well before your union and even if he is turned free he will neither be given the power of being Representative again nor will he be physically able to disturb your ceremony if it means cladding him in irons."
With so much sincerity and willingness coming from the Gavel, Jareth felt it an inappropriate time to discuss how uncomfortable he was when the elder stressed, 'well before your union' in his promise. Rather than spoil Sarah's day by causing a scene, he shook what had once been his enemy's hand. Appreciation aside, Jareth's nature got the better of him not long after his attentions returned to his meal and he asked, "When do you think that trial might be?"
Without taking his eyes off his plate, the Gavel replied, "You pick a new Representative for the Southwestern Sector, someone we approve of naturally, and I'll give you this trial you're so anxious for."
