Chapter Three: The Prince of Ordon
The smell of drying fish assaulted her nose and she sighed in relief. Her back hurt, her legs hurt, and she really needed a bath. Fish meant the Clareshaw fish pens, the Clareshaw Beck, and Highcalere House.
Link's nose wrinkled. Zelda stifled a giggle.
"Clareshaw?" he asked, pointing to the town ahead of them.
"Yes. The wind carries the smell away from the house."
He grimaced. "Small mercies."
Sheik surveyed the town. "We'll circle around through the fields. Once we're inside, we can outfit you in uniform. Her Majesty's guards won't question your presence if I clear you."
Link absently soothed his mount, patting the mare's neck. "I think you should go on without me."
Zelda jerked around to face him. "What do you mean?"
He blinked out of his preoccupation. "I don't think this is the best way."
"And you are just mentioning this now?"
He ignored her. "Return to the palace. It will take you, what, two days? I will meet you there."
Sheik had not gripped weapons but was sitting relaxed in his saddle. "How will you contact us?"
Zelda had never seen a mischievous grin on the Champion's face and it filled her with foreboding.
"This is not what I discussed with Ordon," she protested.
"No," he said. "But he's not here."
"What if you are captured?" No matter Ordon's proclaimed determination for this treaty to come to fruition, she doubted it extended to his heir being held as a political prisoner. "How will you reach the Castle Town undetected?"
His sidelong look swelled her bosom with rage. Feeling stupid only added fuel to the heat. He had led them the last five days, skillfully avoiding any watchtowers or large towns, skirting the edges of the populated areas. He must have infiltrated her country many times before. And Sheik had to have figured it out long since.
He sat watching her, waiting for her answer. Would he heed her command? Or shrug and ride back the way he came? What his plan was, she had no idea. But she either trusted him – and his abilities as a general – or she didn't. And for an uneducated goat herder, he managed to outmaneuver her with humiliating ease.
She was able to say with believable clam, "Very well, Captain. I will watch for your arrival."
Link threw her a quick salute and gave Sheik a nod. The Hylian soldier smiled as he watched the Ordonian canter back toward the fields.
"Ordon was right. Have you decided?"
Married to that impulsive, disrespectful boy-soldier? Zelda tossed her hair, which needed a wash and brush desperately. "Let us hope it need not come to that."
"I like him, Zelda."
"Then I give you leave to marry him yourself."
Sheik drew his reins through his hands, toying with the leather. "What do you think he'll do?"
"Hylia only knows. May She protect us from his folly."
Sheik laughed. "His audacity, more like. Come."
He had spent the long days of riding turning over his idea, considering every possibility. Firn, benevolently interfering as always, had planted the seed.
While hidden in her guard, he would gain access to the palace. But then he would be limited by his rank and duties, as well as the Ordonian drawl he could not quite eradicate from his Hylian, no matter how he practiced. Someone would eventually grow suspicious and demand answers.
And what then? Come forward as the Champion of Light, a prince of Ordon? He'd spend the summer in the dungeons as the queen argued for his freedom. He had spent some weeks interred in Hyrule Castle and had no wish to repeat the experience.
He made good time across the rolling fields of Lower Hyrule Field. Open prairie turned to sprawling grain fields, then estates. The Master Sword rumbled indignantly from its wrappings, lashed under his saddle bags to hide the distinctive design. Once he blended into the traffic on the main trade roads, he became less conspicuous.
'Castle Town' was a misnomer. The city sprawled over the delta formed by the Irritara river emptying into Lake Hylia. Six massive bridges crossed the turbulent waters. Each was crowned with a gate, heavily guarded. Towers and warehouses rose from the cobbled streets. Even several miles away, Link could hear the rumble of the populace: bells, shouting, wagons, cranes. No wonder Ordon was dismissed as backward by the thousands of Hylian occupants crowded into the stone city.
The gate guards made a cursory search of his belongings. Dressed in plain clothes and staring absently at the donkey in front of him, they assumed what he wished, that he was a bucolic nobody come to see the city.
Once inside and across the bridge, he led his horse down the narrow alleys packed close to the wall. Glad he hadn't needed to scale the sheer edifice on this visit, he wound through the warren of streets until he found a familiar tavern.
A boy held his reins for a penny. Link shouldered his pack, the Sword no more happy braced across his shoulders than strapped to a saddle.
Inside was dim and smoky. The midday meal was winding down and workers either smoked leisurely or haggled the price of their meal. Link found an empty table and settled in.
A middle-aged woman saw him from the bar and waved acknowledgement. He held up two fingers and she nodded.
A few minutes later a bowl slid across the worn tabletop. Some previous occupants had kept a tally for their game of tarok by scoring into the wood.
"My thanks," Link said as she settled a mug next to the bowl.
She looked up sharply. A grin creased her face, eyes nearly squinting closed.
"By Hylia, what are you doing here, young Gotkasi?"
Link smirked up at her. "Just sightseeing, of course. What else?"
"It's been an age, you rascal. Does Pacquin know you're in town?"
"Not yet."
She launched into a monologue of all he had missed in the past months. Babies, deaths, fights, arrests; Madame Pacquin's clientele had had a tumultuous season, it seemed.
"The queen has recovered, thank Hylia. I think the young thing works too hard. The image of her mother, you know. Plagued to death by those pompous Magistrates. Want to tax ale by the pint served! As if we didn't already pay per barrel and bleed out all our profit!"
"She's in the palace, then?"
Madame Pacquin's friendly eyes hardened shrewdly. "What are you up to this time?" The woman never said so, but Link knew she had guessed much about his identity.
He looked as innocent as he could. She snorted and shoved a crusty roll at him. "That's five coppers, thank you kindly. And no shading the regulars!"
Link promised to refrain from bilking her patrons at dice. It was too easy, with the Sword whispering the outcome of the tosses in his head.
A night spent in the attic of the tavern, a hearty breakfast, and Link was ready to initiate his plan. Firn had pressed a soft package on him at their parting. He unpacked it now, examining the contents by the light of the narrow attic window.
He strolled through the city, always impressed by the sheer size of it. Hundreds of shops, storied dwellings with slanted roofs. Warehouse, stables, forges. And people from all over Hyrule and beyond.
A seller hawked his guaranteed authentic Goron-made hauberk. Link passed with scare a glance, his own as light and supple as silk under his tunic. It had been forged by the heat of the living earth, deep within the caldera of the Goron king.
Another pressed a small vial of fairy-tonic on him, a bargain at six silvers. Having met several fairies and not particularly enjoying it, Link passed yet again.
He did pause by a statue of Hylia. Set in the center of a circular common space, she watched her people go about their daily lives. He knew it was his imagination, but he thought She looked stern, maybe a little resigned.
Any statue of a Goddess followed the same mold. High cheekbones, a shapely point to the ear. An arm outstretched to Her devotees. Yet Ordona always seemed gentle, Her upturned palm an invitation. Hylia held up Her hand in command, silencing you before correcting something stupid you just said.
As all should pay heed, when a Goddess speaks. Particularly Her Chosen Warrior.
Link smiled to himself. His reflection in the basin at her feet glinted with more than coins and sunlight. He kissed his fingers, then touched them to Hylia's feet. He had done the same before, mimicking the Hylians around him as he moved unseen through their country.
This time as he walked on, he could feel Her eyes on his back. She was skeptical. Ordona was persuasive. He wondered what They would decide to do with him.
The shops and the people became cleaner and richer as he approached the castle. There was still time to turn back. He could sneak in, find Sheik, proceed with the original plan. Would Ordon be amused or exasperated when he heard tell of Link's exploits? He wasn't one for showmanship. He preferred to keep to the shadows.
Link drew off his plain cloak and handed it to a beggar. The man clutched the fabric eagerly.
"Hylia preserve you, lord!"
Link prayed she might.
He attracted increasing attention as he crossed the last plaza before the castle proper. Standing before the gates, he unfastened the sheath from his back and planted the chape on the cobbles.
The guards were not unaware of his arrival. Two came from the gatehouse and eyed him.
"What is your business here?"
There was no going back now.
"I am Link of the Gotkasi, Champion of Ordona, Prince of the House of Ordon, and Captain of the Demon Watch. I would speak with the queen."
The guardsmen swept an astonished look over him. The Champion's Tunic was a fine garment. Firn's rendition of the princely accoutrements set the Ordon Blue to best advantage with silver embroidery at the collar and cuffs. The Rito were rumored to spin clouds into their weaving, making strong but light fabrics.
The diamond at his forehead was of the highest quality and cut. The Diadem had sat unused for years in Ordon's armory. Had Firn asked permission? Likely not.
All these details declared him some sort of lord, possibly a prince.
Enameled with deep blue lapis and shimmering mother-of-pearl, chased with gold, the sheath itself was worth a fortune. The symbol of the Triforce reflected the nooning sun, set below the throat. Winged cross-guards and a sapphire pommel-stone crowned the weapon. Link had seen a dozen fakes over the years.
A guard went running into the palace.
There was no mistaking the true Master Sword.
Zelda glanced up as the door to her study opened. Lord Boas did not slow his tirade, an avalanche of percentages, yields, and shipping figures she had long since lost track of. His assistant looked pained; hopefully he would distill the report down for her.
"Your Majesty, you are needed most urgently!" The guard's knee brushed the carpet before he sprang back to his feet.
"What is it?"
"There is, well, there is a man at the gates."
Fear stabbed through her. She stood smoothly. "'A man?'" Though, even a sorcerer king might be welcome relief at the moment.
"He says he is a prince. From Ordon."
Zelda gave a not entirely false start of surprise. Would the boy really just walk up to the gate? "What nonsense is this?"
"My queen, he as a sword."
She waved dismissively. "So do each of my soldiers. Send him on his way."
"Ma'am, it is the Sword."
She looked to the tapestry hanging on the far wall. Embroidered in exquisite detail, the Master Sword glowered over the occupants.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She left Boas gaping. "What does he want?"
"To see you." The guard trotted beside her, scrambling to open doors as she hurried through the corridors. What in Hylia's name was the boy doing? "He was taken to the White Salon."
"Where is Sheik?"
"He awaits you there."
Glad she had been overdressed this morning, Zelda paused and collected herself. Was it really him? Was this some trick? Sheik would know him, right? She nodded to the guard.
The Champion stood by the window. The sunlight caught the gem at his brow as he turned.
"You are the Hylian queen?" he asked.
She stood speechless with indignation. Of all the stupid, impulsive…! She drew upon years of life in the public eye. "I am Zelda. Pray, who are you?"
His eyes narrowed the slightest, as if he were hiding a smile. "I am Link of the Gotkasi."
A gross understatement. "A citizen of Ordon, then?"
He showed his smile this time and the mischievousness she mistrusted was still there. "Their prince, actually."
Now he wanted to claim the position? "Have you any proof to the title?"
The Master Sword had been slung from his belt. He shifted his hand where it rested on the hilt. Blue and gold flashed.
"None but my word."
Arrogant pig. Yet she could not stop her laughter. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.
"I apologize, 'Your Highness'," she said. "It is not every day someone has the brash to present themselves as royalty and demand an audience with the queen."
"And I apologize if my request was interpreted as such. I did not expect such a precipitous response."
His accent, which she suspected he was playing up on purpose, drawled the words into something almost insolent.
"Why did you come here, Prince…Link, is it?"
He spread his hands. "I am the Master of the Sword of Light."
And she would never tell him how relieved she felt to see him. "That remains to be seen."
"You doubt my word?"
"Can you blame me?" One never knew who was spying in the palace. She must be cautious. She sniffed disdainfully. "You are not the first to pretend to such a position."
His smile was dark now. "I would pity them, but for their blasphemy."
She had forgotten Sheik was in the room. "Shall I summon the Priestess, Your Majesty?"
"Yes, thank you." She turned back to the Champion. "We shall see if your claims are genuine."
"I look forward to the challenge."
The loft of the Palace Temple was much more crowded than usual, particularly for the mid-afternoon.
Zelda blithely ignored their pointing and whispers. She sat in the throne at Hylia's feet. She used this space whenever she needed the support of the Goddess of Law and Judgment in her political dealings.
Kahlin of Westgate, the High Priestess of Hylia, stood next to her. The tall, graceful woman watched Link stride confidently up to the dais.
"Sure of himself, this one," she murmured.
Zelda noted it, also. Something had changed. He lacked the turmoil she had sensed in him, back in Ordon. What had steadied him?
He stopped in the center of the room and looked forward with the same sardonic smile playing on his mouth. She still mistrusted it, feared it even. This boy could be a disaster if he chose.
"Who comes before the Great Goddess?" Kahlin asked.
Link bowed respectfully. "I am called Link. My line is of Ordon, Gotkasi of the Torcana hills."
"Why do you bring a weapon into this sacred place?"
He straightened, the shifting of the mail under his tunic chiming like tiny bells. He drew the Master Sword.
Kahlin inhaled sharply. "Where did you get this?"
"The Sword passes from Master to student, as it has for countless ages. I am its Master now."
He drove the point into the floor of the temple.
Zelda surged to her feet, knives ready. Her heartbeat thundered, echoing back from the cold stone walls. She turned at a flash of color.
Link frowned at her. "You're here?"
"What is this? I demand you return me at once!"
"We haven't left, I think. This is the dream place."
"The what?"
"The Master is here," he said, turning slowly to survey the room. "Or, this is where he appears to me."
Shadows shifted along the walls though the candles were still. Her steps had a hollow sound as she moved closer to him. The solid breadth of him was reassuring as the temple wavered around them.
"Did you do this?" he asked.
"Me?" she squeaked. "Of course not!"
He had his Sword again. Was it real? Was any of this real?
"How do we get back?"
"We're still in the temple," he said. "And I wasn't in control last time."
"Last time?"
He stilled, head cocked. "Last time, it was…"
He spun, sword singing. He shoved her behind him, planting himself between her and the sorcerer.
Zelda gripped her weapons and peered over his shoulder.
"Who are you?"
"So, you found each other, yet again," the man said.
Link angled the blade. His face reflected in the clear steel. "What do you want?"
"The final warning, boy."
Anger snapped the air around them. "I will kill you, crytch. I will find you and destroy you."
The Sorcerer smiled. "I am counting on it."
He parried Link's thrust. Ephemeral as smoke, he slipped under the Champion's guard.
Zelda scrambled back as Link was lifted from the ground, the demon's claws clenched around his neck. He pulled him close, hissing with satisfaction.
"You are nothing, boy," it whispered. Zelda's knives passed through it, the shifting, formless mass of its body growing, gathering in the shadows. "You think you can resist me?"
Link grunted in pain, the demon's claws biting into his skin.
"I am your Master. Do not fight it."
Darkness oozed from its fingers, running along Link's skin, seeping into his flesh.
"Serve me, and I will spare your home." The darkness traced sinuously up his face, reaching for his eyes.
Link kicked out. The demon caught his boot with a contemptuous laugh. But the leverage was all Link needed. He jerked, slamming his other boot against the demon's chest.
The beast snarled as Link broke free. He twisted in midair and the Master Sword cleaved the shadows.
Zelda gasped, the rush of noise crashing into her ears. Kahlin stood braced, her hand outstretched in unconscious mimicry of her Goddess above.
Link knelt on the floor. He gripped the hilt of the Sword to hold himself upright. The marble slab had cracked, a jagged star radiating out from the Sword.
The din was cacophonous, people crying out, the stamp of feet. The wave of power rumbled into the distance. Link looked up. For an instant his eyes gleamed, then faded back to blue.
Kahlin had recovered. She lifted her arms.
"Stand, Link."
He did, grimacing as he steadied himself. He withdrew the Sword and stood looking down at it.
"Welcome, Master of the Sword. Welcome, Champion of the Light."
He sheathed the weapon, a fluid motion he must have practiced thousands of times. His hands trembled before he clenched them at his side.
"Welcome, Prince."
There was no way to be alone with him, to demand answers. He had to be officially welcomed, given a suite of rooms, fed, bathed, clothed. Every little detail some sycophant could imagine was arranged and presented to the hapless boy.
Zelda observed this from a distance and found grim pleasure in it. He would not be eating on the floor here, that was certain.
She paced her room that night, trying to compose a message that would appear innocuous. While few wished her ill, many wished their pockets lined and latched on to any possible tidbit that would give them an edge up on their equals.
Invite him to breakfast? A negotiation session, preliminary, so she might exclude her cabinet?
He solved the problem in a fashion she was growing resigned to. He swung neatly over the edge of her balcony and rapped on her window.
"How did you get up here?" she demanded as she let him in.
He shrugged. "I've climbed it before. Er…not your tower, of course, but…other…ones…" He trailed off and rubbed the back of his head. "Does it matter?"
"It damn well matters that you've been sneaking into my country and doing Hylia knows what!"
He tried to smile disarmingly. "Just looking."
"For what?"
"Just…around."
She jabbed his chest with a stiff finger. "I catch you 'looking' again, I'll have you arrested!"
"You did, once."
"When?"
"A few summers past. Your dungeons leak."
"I regret you did not die of prison fever!"
"Zelda? Are you alright?" Sheik poked his head around the door. Link popped up from wherever he had disappeared to when the latch had clicked.
"Oh, it's you. Some show today, Gotkasi. I didn't know you had such dramatic flair."
Link grinned. "I'll never hear the end of it, I think."
Zelda fumed. "Are we not going to talk about it?"
The Champion sobered at once. "You saw it, too, then? The beast?"
She nodded, rubbing her arms against her sudden chill. The silk snagged on the rough places of her hands. "Is the Sorcerer part of the beast? Helping it?"
Sheik demanded an explanation.
"It was consuming you," Zelda told Link. "The darkness."
Link touched his throat gingerly. She could see the reddened marks where the beast's grip had crushed his mail into his skin.
"Here," she said, drawing him to her vanity. "I have a salve."
He sat obediently as she smeared the ointment over the injuries. His hauberk was nearly as light as the cloth of his tunic when she shifted it to reach his shoulder.
"Goron made?"
He nodded.
"How did you steal it?"
"I won it, actually."
"You beat a Goron in a wrestling match?"
He chuckled. It vibrated through his chest, his collarbone hard under her hand. "Footrace. Volcanos are much harder to climb than castles. And Baeark had the advantage; he could walk through the lava."
"If your mother were alive, you would be the death of her." She wiped her hands on a clean cloth. "There. Better?"
He rotated his shoulders and neck. "Yes. Thank you."
His attention shifted to her cosmetics. He touched the sandalwood box Firn had given her.
"Azual?" he asked. "Firn must really like you."
"She despairs of your marrying."
He rolled his eyes. "She and Ordon both."
Sheik cleared his throat. "So, what do we do now?"
Zelda had forgotten him again. It made her blush, which she didn't understand, and was glad the dim light hid it.
Link's humor faded. "I need to confront the Shadow."
"I forbid you from walking up to his keep and demanding entry," Zelda said firmly.
He eyed her sideways. "It's effective, though."
"You were lucky I don't want to kill you."
Link shifted the weight of the Sword. "What did he mean? That we found each other again?"
"Or that he was your Master?"
Ordon was right: the feral child still seethed in him. "I am no one's slave."
Zelda swallowed a suddenly dry throat. "It is late. I want to consult my Priestess before we do anything aggressive toward Druynia and the Shadow there. This is more than a war of arms."
Link gave his head a shake and his eyes came alive again. "Eventually I will need to go into Druynia."
"Until we know more, it is reckless."
He grimaced. "If we wait, he will only grow stronger."
She placed a hand on his arm, gripping his tunic to hold him still. "It is not safe to go alone. Even with the Sword. We cannot risk it falling into the Shadow's possession. We cannot risk you."
He half-smiled. "Then what is the point of being the Champion?"
"Promise me-"
"Ciela!" Sheik hissed. Link was gone in an instant, a shadow within shadows as he went over the balustrade.
Zelda's personal maid peeked around the door. "My lady, you are still awake!"
And she was late into the night. She had thought she understood the Ordonian Prince. Now…now she was scared. For him and all their people.
Hyrule had a very different attitude toward royalty than Ordon. Someone barged into his borrowed room and drew back the curtains much too early.
Link grimaced, rolling over to block the light that stabbed his eyes. Since they weren't trying to be stealthy, he released his knife hidden under his pillow.
"Your Highness?"
He blinked his vision clear to find a small, round man standing next to the bed.
"Your Highness, are you awake?"
He already disliked that title; it carried too many connotations. "Who are you?"
"I am Vin, of Handdon Province. Her Majesty the queen appointed me to be your valet while you stay in the palace. Unless, of course, your own servant has accompanied you?"
Link hovered between annoyance and amusement. "I don't have one."
"Then allow me to say it is an honor, my lord, to serve one as storied as yourself."
Link sat up and rubbed his face. "'Storied?'"
This Vin moved much quicker than a man of his girth would be expected. Link watched fascinated as he bustled about the large room.
"Oh, yes, my lord. The tale of your battle with the Hyrdabeast. Or when you pierced the eye of the Great Wind Dragon with the Lightening Arrow of Zhalguhl."
Embarrassed, Link kicked off the bedclothes. "What are you doing?"
Vin was laying out a tunic. "Seeing as you brought little in the way of clothing, I took the liberty of having our tailors provide you with appropriate garments."
The color was not quite right, but then Hyrule likely had as few besum root they did azual. The tunic was cut after the Hylian fashion, longer and slim through the waist. Link washed and let Vin settle it over his head.
"I assumed you would not want your maille today, my lord. I have an armorer cleaning it and your other kit."
Link tried not to hunch his shoulders. He felt naked, no hauberk, no greaves, no bracers. No knives. The trousers were tighter than he usually wore and the new boots stiff.
"How does it fit, my lord?"
Link shrugged. "Close enough."
Vin beamed. "Allow me to dress your hair."
"I'm sorry, what?"
The man attacked his head with a brush. Link suffered through it, knowing Hyrule would have paid much to witness this. Finally, Vin tied it back and placed the Ordonian Diadem on his head.
"Now, your baldric."
At least the Sword felt familiar on his back. Link was starting to regret his choices. Vin bowed him out of the room.
Sheik waited for him.
"Your Highness, I am Sheik. I am Her Majesty's personal guard. If you would follow me, there is a meal waiting."
They passed through corridors lined with tapestries and statues.
"If you would like, I will select guards for your personal detail, Your Highness."
"No, thank you."
"My lord?"
"I don't need them." And they would get in the way, should he want to poke around a little.
Sheik stopped by a door. "I do not doubt your prowess, my lord. However, I do know some men who would gladly serve an Ordonian prince."
Link sent him a quick look. "Very well."
Sheik gave a half bow and let Link into the room.
Hyrule sat at a small table set by an open casement. She saw him and rose.
"Good morning, Ordon. I trust you slept well."
His nightmares were almost comforting in their regularity. "I did, thank you. And please, I hope to have many years before I am Ordon."
Never would be preferable.
They sat and were served. Hyrule maintained small talk, to which he returned bland answers. Before long, he was itching to be out doing. Servants came and went quietly. Guards stood still around the room. It was horribly refined.
Hyrule set aside her utensils. "If you will excuse me, I have business to attend to. Shall we meet to discuss our treaty later this afternoon?"
He stood as she did, servants leaping forward to pull back their chairs. Nonsense, all of it. Hyrule left in a swarm of servants and guards.
Now what? Tour the palace? Lurk awkwardly in gardens? Would he be allowed in the temple? Cantor was quite lax about who went in and out of his domain. But then, who would steal from Ordona?
He retraced his steps of the previous afternoon. Stares followed him through the palace. Should he feign a lack of fluency in Hylian? That sounded more work than not, remembering to be grammatically clumsy. And likely, most people already thought him backward, possibly illiterate. Hylians had a poor opinion of their more rustic neighbors.
The temple was an annex of the palace. Set in a verdant courtyard, it rose graceful and serene. The arched columns added height, reaching up to the sky.
It lacked the familiar coziness of the temple at home. His earliest memories -the clear ones, without the haze Ordona maintained- were of running through the temple grounds, playing with the other children. He had never played before and still reveled in the exhilaration of it.
Did they know then who he would become? Had their parents whispered to each other, that this strange, broken boy would become the Hero, their prince? How much of his life did he control?
Destiny may be written, but you make the choice.
There had been some who questioned his worthiness. A few who outright disliked him. But he knew his adopted people supported him absolutely. Here, he would not be so lucky.
Kahlin made that apparent at once.
She stood by the wound he had made in her floor and watched him with narrowed eyes.
"Hail, Champion." Her voice rolled over him, years of declaiming to her congregation giving it power.
"Hail, Lady of Hylia."
She huffed through her nose. "What do you know of Hylia?"
Not much. They were still measuring each other warily. He looked up to Her and bowed. "Enough to respect Her."
Kahlin sighed and gestured curtly for him to follow. Her sparse chamber was nothing like Cantor's, who had filled his alcove with trinkets and books. Kahlin settled in a chair very much like a throne and glared at him. He was not surprised she had been called to serve as High Priestess. She and Hylia were eerily similar.
There was no other chair. Link considered sitting on the floor, but instead hooked his thumbs in his belt and waited.
She has power, a true priestess.
He could feel it, simmering behind her calm front.
"How old are you, boy?"
"I don't know."
She frowned. "How can you not know?"
"I was born a slave."
Her eyebrows arched as high as her temple pillars. Not exactly a glorious lineage. "And you have no knowledge of your parents?"
"None." He was trying to keep his emotions controlled, but his tone went icy anyway. "Likely Hylian, though."
No Hylian liked to hear of their slave trade. It was officially illegal, but hard to eradicate, profitable for those in control of it. Forced labor was an acceptable penalty for debt, real or otherwise.
"You cannot be more than twenty-five years," she said.
"My Lord Ordon estimates I was six years when I joined the household. Hard to tell, given I couldn't talk when the Gotkasi found me."
He usually never spoke to anyone about this. But he was enjoying shocking her. She clearly expected much more from the Champion. As if his 'storied' exploits weren't enough.
"Your upbringing does not concern me," she said, dismissing his origins. "What happened yesterday?"
"You saw it?"
She flicked her fingers at him. "I felt something. A hiccup, a wrinkle. What did you see?"
Link described the shadow and the warning.
"The queen was there?" Kahlin demanded.
"This time, yes."
"And you have been to this place before?"
Thousands of times, he now knew. "Yes."
"How do you gain entry?"
"I don't control it. It draws me in."
"I do not like that," she said, almost to herself. He agreed. She stared into the middle distance for several minutes. Speaking with Hylia? He thought he could hear a murmur of their interchange.
Then, "Why are you here?"
"In truth? Because Lord Ordon wanted it."
She gave him a puzzled look. "Did your Goddess not command you?"
How to explain that Ordona did not command? She requested, She persuaded. Comforted when you refused and the consequences rained down. One learned to heed Her suggestions closely.
And She wanted him here. Had been urging him to leave Ordon for months. He had been ignoring it and look what it got him: a gold circlet and a talk of marriage. Both were far worse than battling evil; he was accustomed to that.
Kahlin unexpectedly chuckled. "You are a perplexing man, Champion. Complicated."
"I apologize. I would have much preferred a simpler life."
"Would you really? Somehow, I doubt that. What do you plan to do now?"
Apparently, not march into Druynia and deal with this problem once and for all. Hyrule, Hylia, and Ordona were all in agreement on that. He wondered if he could, or if their combined prohibition would find some catastrophic way to stop him. He did not want to risk it.
"What do you know of this sorcerer-king?" he asked her.
She scowled. "One of their lords, a man called Hyphestin. The death of their king last year cast the country into chaos."
Link nodded agreement. "We had been receiving refugees until the winter closed the passes. Then the Shadow."
She relaxed enough to look worried. "I cannot See past the barrier. If they were aggressive, then perhaps…"
"I have seen the hordes with my own eyes," Link said grimly. "It is only a matter of time until they attack."
Kahlin smiled mirthlessly. "If you can convince Her Majesty's cabinet of this, I will be in your debt."
"Are they so blind to the threat?"
"Comfortable with peace. And unwilling to believe 'fairies' tales."
Link scoffed. "Blasted fools. It is not five years since I cleared your Watch. Can they not see the Shadow?"
Kahlin did not respond at once. She watched him through narrowed eyes. "It is rumored this is more than an upstart king. Some fear this is the return of Ganon."
Ganon.
Link had to force his hand still at his side. The Sword bellowed at him, raging, demanding to go and destroy the Dark Lord. The Priestess recoiled from its fury.
"Well," she said, a little breathless. "There is no doubt you are the Chosen One."
The Sword settled, seething with impatience. Link let out a breath. Sweat chilled his forehead.
"If it is," he said, "then invasion is a certainty. Have you spoken to Hyrule about this?"
"Yes. She is cautious."
Link would shake some sense into the girl. "What rumors?"
He left the temple as the sun was passing its zenith. Kahlin, though not thrilled with her Champion, expressed her gratitude for his coming here.
He listened for a moment. The Sword still urged him to slay the demon king. Ordona encouraged, reminding him of home and family. Hylia gave allowance for his impulsiveness.
It was strange to feel Her presence. But somehow, he felt…grounded. More assured. The circlet did not weigh on his head. She was the Goddess of Kings, after all.
Borrowing that confidence, he strode into the palace.