Disquiet settled over the war cabinet as we reflected on the reports of the soldiers' ostensibly shocking demise.
"How could they have known? The traitorous Minister of Diplomacy, had already been taken for interrogation when we planned the sortie." Baron Gilcog's voice broke the silence.
"Perhaps, there is another…" Secretary Hesler shied from saying "spy," so I proffered different word.
"Explanation."
I paused to allow everyone to focus on me. "There is another explanation. We waited too long to attack. Sandora knew that garrison was under-manned and they simply reinforced it. As I said before, it was a good show, but a powerful adversary will send them scampering back to their dens."
"They may have stymied our victory," I said, "but it cost Sandora many of the fleet's lives. If we strike now, they will be utterly surprised and helpless."
"Our side had virtually defeated their garrison before the surprise attack," Dame Roald said in agreement. Her opportunistic nature helped her inherit three of the great plain households. Thus, she understood the value of cunning manoeurvers.
I pressed on saying, "We need only deliver one final barrage; the killing blow." While I paused my speech I glanced at the General. He regarded me with one scarred finger stroking his freshly-shaven chin.
"Send the First Knighthood in its full force and you will crush them."
"But if they should fail to-," said the Secretary before I cut him off.
"With all due respect, I was under the impression that the First were skilled enough to combat a lone garrison in Basil-friendly territory," I said.
"There are no greater warriors throughout all the land," blustered General Balereon.
"Indeed," One of Secretary Hesler's eyelid twitched as he said, "Given that, mightn't it be imprudent to leave Indells without their protection?"
Basil would be more vulnerable, but that was my intention.
"I daresay the General's legion can defend the city themselves, especially for such a brief time."
Balereon nodded at my words. I was confident that he would never say his men were incapable of any task.
The Secretary spoke once more, "Retaking Crater Run so swiftly after apparent defeat is an exciting proposition to be sure, but we should first discuss this with His Royal Highness."
I took care to eliminate any trace of annoyance from my voice, "His Graces trusts our judgment."
"The king should not be disturbed from his sick bed with this matter," General Baleron agreed. "Let the boy recover in peace. The tactician has the right of it; he will agree with us."
"By my calculations, if the First Knighthood leaves immediately..." I lowered my voice as though sharing a secret. The others leaned in towards me to hear my plan.
When we finished, the first evening's stars bloomed on the twilight canvas of the sky.
An earth-tremor could not have shaken the castle more than the news of the First Knighthood's defeat. The residents of Basil trudged about with their heads downcast. Some slouched noticeably as though a weight pressed on their shoulders. Even I was taken aback. Doel should not had the resources to devastate such a powerful force in so short a time. My stay in Serdio had often felt like a flight through choppy winds, now I sensed that I was plunging through uncharted skies.
No one knew what had really happened, but voices fluttered threw the halls of the castle with theories.
"Emperor Doel must have made an alliance with those Tiberoans," some suggested. How else could he muster the force to defeat Basil's best?"
"Only dark magic could slay the First Knighthood," others whispered, "The Emperor has always been overly fond of arcane arts."
Still others insisted that Doel had found a secret weapon, one that could turn the tide of the war; they claimed that dragon-fire had been used in the battle of Crater Run.
This last account struck me as I walked to the Royal Tower. As I had orchestrated the attack, it was my responsibility to report to the king. My footfalls sounded in the corridor as suspicious thoughts ran through my head.
In the dialect of my people, I murmured to myself, "He does have a dragon." I turned the words over in my mouth, tasting their sharp edges. What I had taken as over-confidence revealed itself to the be the smugness of a man who knew he could not loose.
Doel had had a dragon before. My fingers rose to cover my nose at the memory of the corpse scent that lingered in the halls of Kazas. The foul smell was all that remained of the violet beast. Every scale and magical bone had been sacrificed on the altar of Doel's advancement. Somehow he must have acquired a replacement.
My fingers slid over the partially empty glass vial before I realized I had reached for it. Then I fingered the pouch beside it. The rendezvous with the king would be more than one purpose. During my stroll before the attack on Seles, I had gathered several herbs to aid my truth serum. The first dosing had taken too long to produce an effect. With Doel's new weapon rampaging the Duchy of Basil, I might not have an opportunity for a third interrogation. If he chose to launch his lizard against the castle, I might lose access to the one person who probably knew where the moon object lay. It was actually a wonder that Doel hadn't already attacked Indells Castle. But the overgrown reptiles were notoriously hard to motivate. It was probably lazing on the sun-bathed rock slabs of Gipfel Peak or cleaning its fangs on the treetops of some distant forest while its handlers tried to coax it to behave.
I stopped abruptly. A nameless feeling gnawed at my mind. Some vital piece of the dragon story was missing.
Footsteps stuttered behind me. I turned to see a server nearly drop a large platter in an effort to avoid walking into me. I felt obliged to mutter an apology and express gladness that nothing had been spilled. The silver platter held small bronze plates of bread and pastries. Some of the castle residents would enjoy a late evening refreshment before retiring for the night. I had visited cultures in which people fasted to mourn their dead, but in Serdio life went on. Though not for the First Knights, of course. So consumed was I by thoughts of dragons, battles, and the explanation that I would have to give King Albert, that I had not thought of a way to administer the potion. Seeing the food inspired me.
"Do you have any extra plates?" I asked.
The server's eyes avoided my face.
"I am going to visit the king, and I'm told he is fond of cheddar biscuits. I hoped he might consider finally breaking his fast."
"Take two plates." The platter wobbled in the server's haste to hand them to me.
Normally, an attendant would take food offered to the king to his personal dining room, but I was allowed to carry the plates of biscuits myself after I gave the excuse that in my culture it was expected for a guest to deliver their own gifts to their hosts (which happened to be true).
A steward ushered me through the heavy double doors of the royal study and announced my presence. King Albert faced a bay window, but turned to regard us until the steward retreated to his duties. Without a word returned his attention to the sunset view of the city and the countryside beyond. I laid the plates on a small table near a bookshelf and then waited until most of the sun had sunk below the horizon before the king to give me permission to report.
King Albert maintained a mask of stoicism as I told him the results of the assault on Crater Run. He listened to the description of defeat, and embodied professionalism as he asked for logistical details.
The skin around his eyes tightened as I told him of the casualties.
"The Sandoran runners proclaimed total victory," I said evenly. His emotionless restraint encouraged me to speak matter-of-factually. "We know that more than eighty percent of the troop perished. The Fourth Knighthood's surplus can take over a few of the First Knighthood's responsibilities, but General Balereon fears it may require several years of training to fully replace those who were lost.
"How many survivors have been recovered?"
"I am not sure yet, Your Majesty," I was, however, certain that I knew what the king really meant. "There should be more information as the days progress."
The king's gaze shifted focus from one part of my face to another as he searched for answers that I could not give.
"The council members seek your approval to begin new recruitment efforts. The nobles will be petitioned to contribute to the cost of new equipment and refreshment of of the stables," I said, "In time the Knighthoods will recover-"
"I will approve these actions," said the king. "However, we cannot stop at that. Doel's success will embolden him to strike again (and harder). I must reinforce the borders before that happens."
A dragon could fly over walls or battlements but I could hardly tell him that.
"And I want the survivors rescued and the bodies recovered." King Albert's eyes grew stormy. "We owe them that much."
He droned on about a reconnaissance and recovery mission to find the First Knights. I needed to get him to ingest the potion so that I could get him to talk about something more important than a few soldiers.
When he paused thoughtfully I said, "Your Highness, this affair has weighed heavily on all of us, and you more so than most, but you should not neglect to care for yourself.
During the pause in my speech, I must have unconsciously reached toward the food plates because the king answered me before I could utter the question.
"No, thank you," he said. "I cannot eat now."
"But Cook made them especially for you. She wishes you a speedy recovery."
"I thank her for that," replied the king, "but my appetite has diminished."
"That is understandable. I only wish that I had had the foresight to bring glasses of water instead of food. Our discussion has parched my throat."
"May I offer you a drink?"
He drifted to cabinet on the far side of the room.
"The Tiberoan ambassador gifted me with spiced Hibiscus wine."
I stared wordlessly as he showed me a glass pitcher covered with intricate whorls. Mistaking my surprise for confusion the king expounded, "The flowers are bright orange, but the berries produce dark purple juice."
"Sire, you are my king. It is I who must serve you."
He graciously conceded. I poured a glass for each of us and slipped the truth serum into the king's.
"This wine is spicier than I remember it being," he said after a few sips.
"It must have been a long time since you tasted it." The ingredient I had added to the potion was known for its heat.
"That is true."
We tossed theories back and forth about what Doel's next move might be until the king struggled to follow the conversation. His head swung side to side as he scanned the room. When I asked what he sought, he could not recall, so I began to question him.
"Minister Noish tells me that you know about the moon object the Winglies gave to Serdio."
"That thing does not exist." He brought one hand to his lips in a gesture reminiscent of shy children.
"What does it look like?"
"It does not," He started, I don't know."
My aggression clearly bothered him so I tried to be gentle and approach the subject in a more round-about way.
Initially, he nodded agreeably at my hints, but then narrowed his eyes and asked, "Why are you asking these questions?
My lips briefly pulled into a frown. I had expected better from the serum (and my additions), but perhaps it needed a little more time.
"As I mentioned before, Serdian culture interests me. What can you tell me about the gift?"
"Nothing much," He gestured toward a bookshelf. "There might be something written about it in one the older books."
"But I am seeking answers from you, not the pages of a book." I did not say. Though I desperately wanted this session to finally give me the answer, I knew I might need to remain at Indwells and it would not do for the king to have memories (whether sharp or residual) of me snapping at him.
Instead I asked, "Why do you wish to avoid discussing the moon gift? It is a symbol of peace and freedom, and an immensely important artefact of human... of Endinesian history."
I made wide, emphatic gestures with my arms as I drifted toward a handsome wall hanging.
He regarded me silently, his face a blank mask.
Through my cloak I pressed the wall behind the tableau, testing for a hidden compartment. "I would give so much if I could only glimpse one of the fabled moon objects."
King Albert was unmoved by my plea, but I persisted.
"We have a close acquaintance now, would you not agree?"
"That is true," he replied slowly.
I pushed my doubts about the potion's efficacy aside and said, "Show me something no one else knows about."
The king's shoulders tensed as he kneeled to open a drawer at the bottom of his desk. He pushed his hand beneath layers of yellow parchment and pulled out a dark, circular object. Something glinted on its surface and reminded me of the orb that had identified the moon child.
When the king flinched away from me, I realized that I had moved to his side far faster than any human could.
"My apologies, Sire," I stepped back, "I did not mean to startle you."
"It's fine," his empty hand reached up to cover half of his face. "I'm fine."
I now saw that the king held no magical artifact. It was a shrunken paw with four sharp claws.
"Do you hunt often, Your Highness?"
"I do not like hunting. This belonged to my father. He loved the sport." His grip tightened on the shriveled flesh. "He always spent so much time in those woods."
"Did King Carlo hunt in the woods of the castle gardens?"
"No. He hunted on the old grounds just like my grandfathers did before him," said the king. In a low voice he added, "My uncle and my father even took one last trip together after the war started."
The floorboards creaked under my boots as I returned to the king's side. "Where are your ancestral hunting grounds?" Were he anyone else, I would have forced his chin up and stared into his eyes until he answered me.
"They run along the Warine River, south of Crater Run."
"Is there anything unusual about those woods?"
"Spotted mountain cats live there now. They were chased from their native territories."
"Did your royal family ever take anything with them on these hunting trips?"
"Light-weight throwing spears and clubs," he answered. "They used the spears to cripple the mountain cats. Then they clubbed-"
"Did they take anything else with them?"
The king nodded gravely and said, "Horses."
Frustration bubbled beneath my skin, threatening to surface. I turned the conversation towards his family again and asked about family heirlooms and jewelry. However, King Albert revealed no caches of ancient treasure, nor could he describe any unusual objects of both great value and mysterious origin. He gave only a vague declaration that, "We keep our valuables close."
I breathed a long-winded sigh, went to the nearest window and leaned against the sill. My hand drifted to the spot where I stored the orb and Doel's potion.
A cough brought me out of my reverie and made me turn around. Having cleared his throat, the king opened his lips. But he seemed to reconsider, and clenched his jaw shut then shoved the claw back into the drawer.
I used his cough as an excuse to cajole him into drinking another cup, ostensibly to soothe his throat. His willingness to submit told me the potion was still working, but I added an extra dose for assurance. In my impatience I made a careless error.
The king's breathing changed. His respiration became struggled. The pallor of his skin altered dramatically and droplets of sweat blossomed on the bridge of his nose. I could see the fever taking hold and it was not under my control. The sickness would rage through his body burning everything it could.
I returned to my poison pallet in a fury. I wished I could flip the table in anger, but that would alarm the guard. My hands shook. I tried to ignore them by focusing on the task. A pitcher of water stood in the cabinet beside the space the wine had occupied. I used it to make an herbal mixture. The words of my teacher, an exiled priestess, returned to me: a streak of moonroot and some flakes of hinsing; stew of wardsbane applied the skin would help him.
My goal was so close that I could practically feel the power emanating from the first moon object. Yet, I found it frustratingly difficult to mix a poultice. Crippling the king, or worse, would mean losing my best informant and it would cast inescapable suspicions on me besides. Some of the knights already whispered about the hooded advisor when they thought themselves safe from my ears. Emperor Doel, for all of his blustery speech would not look kindly on me if I murdered the last living member of his family. So much rested on these leaves and roots.
King Albert tumbled from his chair. He slurred a protest when I suggested that he move to his bedroom. I was obligated to physically guide him onto his bed. It was the first time I touched his person. Hair stuck to his flushed face. If I laid a hand on his skin, I was sure it would reveal an unnaturally high temperature.
A mahogany armoire caught my attention. I searched the the bottom drawer. Beneath thick, emerald fabrics I found small, square-cut cloths. These I dipped into the mixture, saturating them before application. I pushed the wet compresses onto the king's neck and forehead.
Realization struck me. I had not taken the alcohol in the wine into consideration. It must have reacted all of the other potion ingredients in an unpredictable way. Whether the effects would heal on their own remained to be seen.
As I waited he shook his head from side to side, dislodging the cloths. I was absurdly displeased though the entire mess was my fault.
"Where is Lavitz?" the king mumbled.
"He left you." I said quietly. Then with boldness, "Sir Lavitz is gone. He will not return."
His masked cracked a little. Malice rose in me like a fell beast awakened. I removed the poultice.
For all of the power that a dragon could bestow, Doel had a glaring deficiency. Despite a long marriage and several trysts he had never fathered a child. King Albert was his last family member. If his nephew were gone, the prideful usurper would have everything, but he would spend the rest of life watching it all descend into the hands of strangers… maybe even foreigners.
"The knights seemed excited to set out." I continued. "That's not surprising though. No vigorous young man would want to languish in a stone castle.
My inability to procure the Moon objects was obviously frustrating, but I had not known this mean-spiritedness dwelled in me.
The king looked at me, his gaze momentarily clear and his expression deep. Those eyes and that face had greeted me when I entered the castle, laughed with me in the stables, trusted me when-
I replaced the compresses and stayed with him until his fever diminished and he slept peacefully.