A/N—I used more description than usual in this chapter; tell me if you like it better this way or if it's too much.
13. In Which We Enjoy the Hospitality of the Manor
I could see the mansion much closer from the bottom of the crevasse. It was a great sprawling thing with many windows, and each window had many diamond-shaped panes. The whole building was brick and stone; marble figures shady and blurred with distance and dim light crouched upon the edge of the roof, and intricate designs of vines and dragons were carved into the stone frames of the windows. The only wood was the door, which was tall and broad with heavy wrought iron hinges and bolts. The wood itself had more carving—this time a phoenix surrounded by curling flames.
Around the mansion ran a fence, or wall, about six feet tall. Heavy blocks of marble alternated with stretches of elegantly twisted iron fence. The gate in this fence was wide open.
We crossed an elegant cobblestoned bridge spanning the creek and approached the gate. Since we didn't know who might inhabit such a place, we moved cautiously, looking around for signs of ambush or wizards. But the sight of many lighted windows and the anticipation of spending the night in a solid shelter overcame our apprehension, and we passed through the gate.
"Halt!" a voice demanded from the darkness. I jumped, as did Olemer and Brandel, who were closest to the voice. I heard the Butterfly squeal somewhere behind me. A figure stepped out from a sheltered alcove beside the door to block our path.
"Who seeks entry here?"
"We were just hoping to spend the night; we saw this place and it looked much nicer than camping out in the wind," Brandel calmly told the guard, for so the stranger seemed to be.
A spark flashed and suddenly a torch blazed to life, illuminating the man's face. He was quite young, with light hair and a simple blue uniform. In the hand not holding the torch he carried a spear, and there was a sword in a plain black scabbard hanging at his side.
"We haven't had many visitors lately." The emphasis he placed on the word "visitors" showed obvious suspicion.
"What is this place? We'll leave if you really don't want us." Daystar spoke this time.
The guard looked out at the darkness and noted the wind whistling down the valley. The suspicion slowly left his face and he turned back to Daystar.
"It's not that we're inhospitable, it's just that we have to keep the wizards away... Wait! Did you say you saw this place?"
"Of course we saw it; it's not exactly small!" Shiara replied.
"But it should be invisible! The spell must be acting up again..." he muttered. "Unless you are wizards, and you broke the invisibility barrier," he added, the suspicion back in his voice.
"And why would wizards be traveling with a dragon?" Kazul stepped forward into the torch's light. The guard's eyes widened; he'd probably never seen a dragon before.
"I... I don't suppose they would," he stammered.
"No, they wouldn't. So are you going to let us in?"
"All right. As long as you mean no harm." He led the way to the door and grasped the heavy iron ring with both hands. He leaned back, using his weight to pull the door open. It creaked loudly as it swung on the rough hinges. Golden light flooded the pathway and we stepped into the warm glow of hundreds of kindled torches.
We had entered a large circular hall lined with more doors, but these were smaller and less ornate. The floor was white marble and the high walls were hung with red, blue, and green banners. The aforementioned blazing torches sat in silver brackets running all the way up the walls to the ceiling. Quite a change from the threatening outdoors.
"Please wait here while I fetch Sir Harol." He gestured to a couple benches along the unoccupied walls, then disappeared through one of the doors.
As soon as he departed, Morwen spoke up. "Not friendly to wizards, eh? That's reassuring. I wonder what the wizards have done here?"
"We'll have to ask this Sir Harol, whoever he is."
We didn't have to wait long to find out. It was only a few minutes before a different door burst open and a large man of middle years strode into the hall.
"Welcome to Harol Manor! I—" he paused for dramatic effect "—am Sir Harol. Here we provide refuge for all—lords, ladies, fairy godmothers, enchanted princesses, or whatever else you may be! As long as physical danger or social ruin threatens your well-being, my home is your home!" He added more information in a fast, low voice: "This offer does not extend to those suffering from mental, spiritual, or transduceral afflictions and excludes all nightshades and wizards. Other restrictions may apply."
It was only after this unusual and obviously rehearsed greeting that our host actually looked at us.
"Rather large crowd today. Of course, we haven't had many refugees lately... what exactly is it you're running from?"
"Just the weather, at the moment," Morwen answered.
"Oh." Sir Harol sounded slightly disappointed, as if he had expected a more thrilling answer. "Well, I assume you're hungry. Please, join me for dinner, and tell me your story. There must be some good reason you've come all the way out here."
…
It was actually Sir Harol who told us his story during dinner. (Quite a good dinner, by the way; we had chicken!) Apparently his ego couldn't allow him to welcome guests without giving a full account of himself and his establishment. We were grateful, though, as it gave us time to decide how much of our own quest to tell our esteemed host.
"I founded Harol Manor twenty years ago; in no little danger I was at the time, I must say. You see, I had competition for the position of Lord Chancellor, and my opponent—I don't like to say his name, if I can help it—my opponent had assassins. Quite dreadful, really. He obviously saw me as a great threat to his chances. So I had to leave. I'm no coward, I'll have you know, but assassins are just a bit too much, don't you think? I came here—not to the manor, of course, that wasn't here yet—but I came to the valley. A proper little paradise—secluded location, fertile land, and extraordinarily large fish. This is where I conceived my honorable goal of establishing a refuge for the oppressed, the hunted, the homeless—Harol Manor!" You can imagine the pride and drama in that last sentence; it left us in no doubt as to his Nobility of Heart and -cough- Unparalleled Courage.
However, this account did not leave us much more enlightened than before, and we were forced to ask a few clarifying questions.
"I take it then, that you were of the nobility before your journey here?" Morwen enquired.
"Oh goodness no! But you see that my cousin had married the brother-in-law of the king's second cousin, so I was in a prime position to become Lord Chancellor. No, no noble blood in me at all, I'm afraid."
"Then you must be a knight! What an honorable profession, my dear sir!" This was Olemer, of course.
Harol looked slightly awkward at this. "Um, actually, not a knight, either. Never had the stomach for such things..."
"Then perhaps you could enlighten us as to the origin of the 'sir' in your name?" Daystar politely requested.
Harol hesitated, then poured out a rushed explanation. "I admit I don't have a right to the title, but you just can't be called 'Harol of Harol Manor'! It doesn't sound right at all! I mean, compare that to 'Sir Harol of Harol Manor.'"
"I suppose I can see what you're saying..." Shiara admitted slowly.
"Well, now that that important matter has been cleared up," Kazul said, "please explain your aversion to wizards." It was a convenient feature of the Manor that all the doors were big enough for a dragon to squeeze through.
"It's not so much my aversion to wizards as Varonyr's. He's been with us about a year now, and he used to visit before that, and it was he who put up the invisibility barrier. Speaking of which, you said that's not working anymore?"
"It doesn't seem to be, but you still haven't explained why Varonyr doesn't like wizards."
"That's who he was running from when he came here. Seems he'd done some research the wizards were interested in, knew too much about something, I guess, so they tried to do him in. I'm not sure how they compare to assassins, but from what Varonyr's told me, they don't sound pleasant."
"Is this Varonyr a magician, then?"
"You could say that, though he prefers being called a scholar. Always into his big maps and historical papers, he is."
"Maps..." Daystar murmured, remembering what we had found in the dilapidated hut. "He wouldn't have ever mentioned the Royal Stick, by chance?"
"Royal Stick? That's got something to do with why he left last month, if I'm not mistaken. Invisibility barrier's been acting up ever since."
"So he's not here now?" The disappointment was evident in Shiara's voice.
"He said not to expect him for at least a month, though I think it'll be a month tomorrow."
"Sounds like we should wait for a few days. It would be worth the time if we find out the Stick's not where we think it is," Morwen addressed all of us.
And so we settled in to await the arrival of our scholar of the hut. I think we were all relieved to be living in comfort; the beds proved to be as comfortable as the food was tasty, and those are the important things in the life of a cat.