Two days. That’s what the note said.
On reaching the palace after the ball, Tims had gone straight to the tower where Hawkeyes was already changing out of his outfit of a wealthy lord. He went to the iron stove and began heating what Hawkeyes called the “memory tea.” It was a mix of herbs found easily enough, though few people actually knew what it did. It wasn’t the best tasting, to be fair. But what it lacked in flavor, it delivered tenfold in its ability to sharpen recollection and draw out forgotten details.
When the teapot whistled, he poured two mugs and brought them to the foyer, setting them on the tea table near the high-backed chairs where he and Hawkeyes sat in contemplation. Handing one mug to Hawkeyes, he took the other and leaned back, sipping the bitter brew, turning over the evening’s events in his mind.
Presently, Hawkeyes began, his eyes unfocused and distant. “The world at large, it seems, is stirring with trouble in many parts.”
Tims frowned slightly at his mentor. “I haven’t heard of this from Jennings or anyone else.”
Hawkeyes gave a slight, knowing smile. “That’s because they listen to officials who are obligated to say what they’re there to say. The true story gets buried beneath twisted versions of whatever is spun, and that story is just a retelling of another.” He gave a soft grunt. “As in every kingdom, the truth is found through networks of spies, some bought, some merely loyal, all recording and sending back to their handlers kingdom information that never sees the light of public discourse.”
Tims studied Hawkeyes for a moment. “You once told me that in your earlier days, you did a lot of traveling.”
Hawkeyes gave a tight grin. “Ah, the days of adventure where I had more than one hat to wear and a different language to match it.” He laughed, his eyes distant with memory. “Those were simpler times, in their own complicated way.”
“Ever got caught?”
Hawkeyes snorted. “My man, if I had been caught in what I was doing, I wouldn’t be here today sipping tea with you. Politics and spying go hand in hand, we say. But also, so does the sword and execution.” He took a long sip of the tea and sighed. “My sources say Percvam is in an upheaval of late. The people are restless and teetering on the edge of revolt against King Rodal. Over in Dacmer, raiders have become so frequent that King Cayden is in talks with forming an alliance with Percvam.”
Tims slowly nodded, seeing where Hawkeyes was leading. Percvam was notorious for its ruthless culture and ambitious kings. An alliance with Dacmer would grant them substantial military power, as Dacmer, though known mostly for their prized horses, was a hardened people forged by the unforgiving life near desert lands.
Both countries eyed Calmone hungrily for its fertile soil and abundant natural resources. Despite the natural boundary between Calmone and Percvam formed by the Free Territories, home to mercenaries and barbarian tribes, it wouldn’t take much for Rodal to throw some coin around, speak to certain power brokers. He could have an army marching north to war within weeks. The only deterrent was the fear of the famed Black Knights. Nobody dared challenge Calmone or even entertain the thought. The Highways were patrolled with ruthless efficiency, a constant reminder of the kingdom’s iron grip. Add to this the already simmering unrest within Calmone’s different provinces, and the situation grew more precarious by the day.
Hawkeyes paused and looked at him then, his gaze sharpening like a blade. “And what has Lord Conner given you?” A thin smile formed on his lips. “I heard of your little incident on the terrace.”
Tims couldn’t help but smile in return. “He’s going to have an interesting visitor tomorrow.” He reached for the writing pad on the table, and picking up the quill, dipped it in the ink jar and drew the strange symbol he had seen, a circle with spheres positioned at intervals around its circumference. Handing it to Hawkeyes, he asked, “Recognize it from anywhere?”
Hawkeyes’ expression darkened, his eyebrows drawing together. “You saw this? Where?”
Tims nodded. “I think it was a type of signature. The note was very short.”
Hawkeyes sighed heavily, setting down his mug with deliberate care. The metal rang softly against the wooden table. “It’s imperative we discover what Lord Conner is doing and who this visitor of his is.” He narrowed his eyes before adding, “This is the symbol of Kae Dias, a religious sect within Percvam. Their devotion to the god Kata knows no equal...nor do the lengths they will go to serve him. They are a dangerous cult and have gained a troubling following in Percvam’s society.” He frowned deeply. “What connection Lord Conner has with them, I desperately need to know.”
“Just how dangerous are they?” Tims asked, his curiosity tinged with concern.
Hawkeyes’ eyes unfocused as if peering into the past. “They deal in black magic, the kind forbidden to all civilized peoples. The White Council has had dealings with them before but never managed to root them out completely. It seems they’re growing bolder these days.” He looked out one of the tower windows, and for a long moment, silence hung heavy between them. “Rumors are spreading that besides the known unrest, something darker is afoot.” He studied the drawing Tims had given him, tracing the symbol with one finger. “I wonder...” He looked through the window again, watching the city lights flicker below like distant stars. “Perhaps the peace we’ve enjoyed for so long is about to end. Rumors are what ignites factions and wars, and there are too many whispers in the wind.”
He turned back to Tims, his expression grave. “Use whatever means you can, but get close enough to discover what Lord Conner is planning. We can’t act until we know his intentions.” He set the mug down with finality, the dull thud echoing in the small chamber. “For myself, I have a few informants in the city I need to contact. I’ll likely be gone for a few days.” He nodded to himself, deciding on something unspoken. He motioned toward Tims. “You’re going to be late attending to your King, what with last preparations and all that for the night.”
Tims looked up suddenly, not realizing how much time had passed. Swearing under his breath, he leaped to his feet and strode toward the door. As he turned the knob, Hawkeyes called after him, his voice carrying a warning edge. “Be careful, Tims. I fear there is far more to Lord Conner than a simple financier. He could be extremely dangerous.”
Tims met his mentor’s eyes and nodded before leaving, racing down the worn stone staircase into the night.
---
Tims found one of the benefits of being the King’s squire was that his room wasn’t even remotely near other people. When Averin discovered that her father had placed Tims’ quarters in a remote wing, she became furious. It was all Tims could do to settle her down, saying he requested it himself. When asked why he wanted to be isolated, he just shrugged. “Maybe I just want to be by myself.” He knew immediately Averin hadn’t bought the lie, her sharp eyes seeing straight through him.
Regardless, he liked his quiet abode. It gave him freedom to move about without having to worry about watching eyes at night. The corridor leading to his apartments was near the parlor where he had found the secret entrance to the labyrinth. Altogether, the arrangement was in his favor.
The apartment itself had originally been mostly bare with only a simple table in one room and a narrow bed in the other.
When Averin came to inspect his quarters, she was aghast. “I can’t have you here in a place like this!” She proceeded to gather servants and decorated the walls with tapestries and paintings. The floor was thoroughly scrubbed and new carpet was laid down. Bookshelves were placed in the main room with carefully selected authors, picked by Averin herself.
When she was through decorating the rooms, Tims didn’t even recognize his own quarters.
He stood there with mouth open and just stared.
“Do you like it?” Averin beamed with a huge smile, hands clasped together. “Now you have proper living quarters, even if it is in this dusty part of the palace.” She gave a slight glare to what she thought of that idea.
“I...” Tims looked about him, trying to look pleased. “Um, yes! It’s wonderful!” He smiled.
Averin glared, crossing her arms. “You know what, Tims? You’re just like father! If it weren’t for us women, you’d all be happy living in a mess.” She gave a ‘humph!’ and walked off.
She didn’t speak to Tims for the rest of that day.
Over the years, Tims had redecorated his chambers. He didn’t do much to the main area knowing that would get Averin ready to rearrange things again even if it was his living quarters.
Those first years under Hawkeyes’ watchful gaze had shown Tims something. He had need of very specific things, tools of the trade that couldn’t be explained away easily. He couldn’t always be running to Hawkeyes’ tower. It made him look suspicious. Instead, he needed his own lair set up somewhat like Hawkeyes’. To this end, he set out to emulate the tower to some degree.
Averin wasn’t supposed to know his secondary occupation, so the remodeling was done largely at night, covered up in the daytime. The wall in his bed chamber came down brick by brick till there was a hole large enough for a door. He didn’t want a door though. It was too obvious. Instead, he consulted Hawkeyes and together, they built a fake wall using wood with half-cut bricks cemented overtop. On the bottom were fashioned wheels to slide in a groove cut into the floor. When it was complete, there was no sign a hole had been made.
Tims knew just by way of how the parlor down the corridor was laid out that there was an empty space right around this spot. When he stepped through the wall, there was a narrow gap about three feet across that he could walk through. To the right, only a short distance away, the opposite wall had crumbled in where a storage chamber was located. It was part of the abandoned sections of the palace and made for a perfect space for Tims’ needs. It even opened directly into the lost corridors. For several weeks, he cleaned out the storage chamber, making sure what was inside was moved to another area within the labyrinth instead of being shoved out the main door. This done, he furnished the secret space with table and chairs, shelves and books on loan from Hawkeyes, as well as several glass vials and the equipment for experiments. To one corner was a large chest and wardrobe closet for his many disguises. Overall, he thought he had done a pretty good job.
The day after the Merchant Ball, he was back in his chambers. Averin was off with her father, learning some statecraft of political bargaining. It was one of those things Tims had no desire to be present for lest he might pass out from boredom. And thankfully, King Joshua had granted him leave most times.
He made his way down the short hall he created to his secret chamber.
In a corner was the large chest containing most of his night gear, and on the walls were an assortment of hooks and daggers he had practiced with.
A table stood to one side with vials and heating equipment. These were probably the most expensive items in the chamber, as it was hard to come by. They had to be specially made by an alchemist Hawkeyes had commissioned in secret. One of the fundamental skills in a spy’s trade was understanding herbs and their many uses. A spy’s greatest asset wasn’t the ability to kill but to hide. And a dart tipped with sleeping potion came in handy many times. This usually led to a curiosity into other properties, as Hawkeyes attested to. Behind the table, a shelf of books was displayed. Half were medical in nature while the other half were obscure volumes Hawkeyes had given him. Blueprints to many of Sarsda’s buildings, a history of the city’s architecture and its layouts. Other volumes included biographies of the many Lords and detailed accounts of how the government worked. To spy, one had to know the persons intimately before the case was even started.
On the table was a thin book on Reshland. This was a new book that Hawkeyes had obviously placed there for him.
Flipping through the pages, he noted that certain sections were bookmarked and within the pages, a piece of parchment was placed. It was a list of lords and ladies, each prominent within the house of lords, having ties to each other within the merchant guild. The biggest similarity was the amount of money each had received from Lord Conner’s treasury. It was substantially more than most other merchants.
Tims’ eyes went wide, seeing how much money was being given out. He knew profits hadn’t gone up that high for any of the guilds within Sarsda.
His eyes fell on the last name in the list because it was circled.
Ralston Fester, King Joshua’s brother. He was Duke over the lands of Reshland, known also for his ruthless treatment of the people.
It was widely known that King Joshua and Ralston did not see eye to eye. When their father and mother had died in a balance storm, the tie between brothers was severed. Their parents had tried hard to keep the peace between the two, but Ralston was always bitter at being born second to Joshua. In Ralston’s eyes, Joshua was weak, holding to traditions that would allow more freedom for the subjects rather than force. Also, his views on religious practices turned Ralston against Joshua in ways that were hard to ignore. Ralston favored the worship of the more warlike deities and held regular temple prayers for the people. With this, he included a practice that was widespread in Percvam, the offering of the firstborn daughters to Miea and Diea, the twin moon goddesses. They were known for their love offerings or fertility rites. In order for the people to thrive, Miea and Diea told their followers that at every summer’s festival of the sun, a daughter was to be given over to the temple for ten years. In their services, they would become prostitutes to any man or woman who came to the temple to worship. Their offspring would then be raised as disciples of Kata, who Miea and Diea were wives to. Often, this meant they would grow up training in the arts of magical warfare with an eye towards becoming religious knights of the order, doing the bidding of the temple.
Joshua had fought hard to make his brother see the danger this caused the country for years. But Ralston never swayed, and the tension between brothers remained tight for decades.
Below Ralston’s name, Hawkeyes had written a number in the thousands along with that same amount of money given over. Right below this was scribbled, “plotting for civil war?” The words hung in the air as he read the question out loud, his mind reeling. Was it so close at hand? He forgot to breathe for a few seconds, and when he did, he let out a slow, steady breath. Ralston was forming an army. That’s the only conclusion one could make with these numbers. He trembled, knowing now how serious it was to be in close proximity to Lord Conner.
He set the book down and whispered to himself, “Looks like you did all the work.” He felt an uncomfortable heaviness settle in the pit of his stomach.
He had half an hour before Lord Conner would retire to his apartments.
From the chest, he grabbed a pair of servants’ clothes that befit those who regularly attended lords and ladies. He fashioned a wig, placing it carefully on his head before looking into a mirror. So long as nobody looked too closely, he would pass. And he had no intention of anyone seeing him that closely.
Lord Conner’s guest apartments were near the third tower and situated on the second floor.
Pushing the bookshelf slightly, a click was heard before it rotated ninety degrees, revealing a dark passage that stretched into shadows.
He had to be there within the next ten minutes, as he had arranged with Perry, someone he had come to rely on many times. Perry was one of those inconspicuous people nobody looked at twice. He could get into places easily with his advanced title these days. From a simple servant to now one who attended the many lords and ladies as guests, he practically had the keys to the palace.
From the labyrinth corridors, he quickly made his way through the palace to a flight of stairs leading to the servants’ quarters, another part of the palace that was concealed from the main public areas. They held stairs and corridors leading to practically every room without ever having to be seen.
Nobody paid him much attention as he quickly ran down a half-lit corridor and into the third tower. He carried a bucket in one hand and a chimney rake in the other.
Ahead, the back entrance to Lord Conner’s apartments opened and Perry stepped out. He was the sole person Tims had confided in, as he was key to many of his escapades.
Lord Conner was a man who loved to boast his feats at leisure and had an appetite for women. It was no secret that Conner’s wife was no more than a thing of property signed over to him by a baron whose lands were ravaged by bandits and its starved people. To protect his lands, the baron had given over his daughter for the protection of Conner’s soldiers.
This, Conner did at the expense of humiliating his new wife in court functions. His wife, Lady Sella, was paraded around in court balls and plays like she was some trophy he had won in a game. Rumors spread wild as the noble women pushed Sella aside. They all looked down on her in disgust. They were high nobility whereas she was low born with only a claim in name only. The fact that Conner hardly stopped the circulation of his appetite towards scandals served to humiliate his wife even further. The saying was that her station was so low that she could never satisfy her husband. He had to go about finding other women to bed because of her. It was even rumored that he had never truly consummated their marriage. Lord Conner was not well liked in Sarsda, but that didn’t matter so long as his wealth found pockets.
Tims nodded briefly to Perry, who left a usually locked door open.
“He’ll be in rather quickly,” Perry said in a hushed voice. “I’d say the least conspicuous spot is the chimney.”
Tims grinned at Perry’s knowing look. He had seen Tims do some of his rather different tricks. With a last thank you gesture, he slipped through the servant’s door into a vacant reception room.
The drawing room featured two giant bay windows and a red carpet spread across the floor. On the walls hung Conner’s many achievements, decorative tapestries, a jar of expensive dyes, and a large map of the trading routes of the guild.
True to Perry’s words, footsteps sounded down the hall.
He flew to the corner where the fireplace was and leaped up the chimney. Luckily, there were two fireplaces and this one wasn’t lit. Climbing up the stack, he braced himself against the sooty walls and listened.
The door opened and two pairs of feet entered.
“What a bloody afternoon!” Lord Conner’s voice echoed loud in anger. “First, my horse throws a shoe and I almost fall, then Lord Darsen informs me that his last run in the Drysin Sea was attacked by pirates!” He fumed and paced before slamming his fists down on the desk. “I hope you have better news than what I’ve gotten today.”
The second figure gave a grunt. “Not here. It’s too open.”
Lord Conner’s tone was sharply rude. “Nobody is here, you dolt! These are my apartments. I make a point of knowing who’s here with me at all times.” He paused before adding with a bit of a dark chuckle. “Besides, I have a few acquaintances who know a trick or two to seal out listening ears. Once these doors are shut, it’s like we’re in a tomb. Nobody is going to hear us even if we scream.”
“Nice trick,” the deeper voice said without much enthusiasm. “Priests of any god are inclined to lying though. They’ll betray you in a heartbeat. A spell here or there can vanish without you knowing.”
With a sigh, Lord Conner hissed, “This way then.”
Feet came near the hearth before keys jingled and someone unlocked a door.
Tims inwardly cursed. He knew he should have picked the lock and entered the private study. He just didn’t think he had enough time.
As the door closed behind them, he descended from the chimney and quickly made his way to the study door, pressing his ear against it. In a few seconds, his eyes narrowed and he cursed again. He couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t just waltz in either. Glaring at his stupidity, he sighed heavily, racking his brain on what to do next.
Something hazy appeared in his mind like a half-remembered dream. It was so sudden and unexpected, he almost jumped from the powerful sensation.
Shaking his head from the strangeness, he blinked, staggering into the shadow of the corner wall.
_What was that!_
A few seconds later, the same vision materialized in his mind. This time, the scene was sharper and more clear. It showed a hole in a wall. From the view, he could see into Lord Conner’s private study. A hearth was burning to one side. A large desk sat in front of a large window with account ledgers and books, large documents and an assortment of coin scales. In a corner was a table laden with spices, fabrics, bottles of dye, and many other samples of trade. A shelf of books stood to one end.
Lord Conner lounged in his high back chair behind the desk while his guest, covered in a dark hooded cloak, sat tall and imposing. It could easily suggest he was muscular.
Blinking back the surreal vision, Tims fell back against the wall. “Gods...” he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. He rubbed his eyes but the visual still played out. Now, the strange secondary sight began moving away from the hole to show a dark narrow corridor. This in turn opened to a room that jumped out at him with startling familiarity.
This was part of the labyrinth!
Excitement overpowered his reasoning and he quickly made his way out of the apartments and back the way he had come. Slipping easily back into the hidden corridors, he raced down the halls, following where the vision had appeared in his mind.
He half jogged down the hall with an open lantern and turned down two more corridors where a single door stood.
He found himself in an odd room. Shelves lined the walls with jars either empty or filled with weird vegetation inside that was long dead. Beds lined the wall with chairs beside them.
Maybe it was some type of forgotten medical room?
He shook his head, trying to remember what he had seen. There was a small opening behind one of these shelves.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he realized something with a start. He had never been in this room before. How was he having visions of a place he hadn’t been in?
Approaching one of the shelves, he paused. If he did find a hole into Lord Conner’s study room, what did that mean about his vision?
_Stop thinking about it and do it._
Tims nodded to himself and pushed.
The shelf slid gently across the wood floor and before long, he was touching the paneling against the wall.
It was bare.
He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and turned to leave. He was a bit disappointed and lowered the lantern when he noticed a knotted hole near the shelf’s edge.
A thin gust of wind sent the lantern fire sputtering.
On the other end of the hole was a vacant gap indicating the wall was hollow.
Tims placed the lantern on the shelf, and gently pulled at the knotted hole.
A sudden squeak of hinges was heard and the wall gave way, revealing the secret passage beyond.
He backed up in shock, his heart pounding hard. “No!” he whispered in fear. “This isn’t happening!”
But the narrow corridor from his vision was now there before him.
With a deepening dread, Tims grabbed the lantern and walked into the wall.
The corridor was only large enough to fit in sideways, so he shimmied down the cobweb-laden walkway. True to his strange vision, the hole he had seen materialized into view, a pinpoint of light shining with muffled sounds from the other side.
Careful not to make a sound, he came near and knelt, peering through the opening.
“...need to be heading out again soon. I can’t stay long.”
“Understood,” Lord Conner replied.
Tims didn’t recognize the man seated opposite the merchant lord. He had taken off his hood and stared intently at Conner.
The man wore a long grey riding coat with boots, his face weathered from years in the Free Territories. His hair was cut short, almost bald, and his eyes were keen, taking in everything with a soldier’s watchfulness.
“My travels have me going everywhere it seems,” the mercenary said after a moment. “I’ve been to the Border Ocean, to Sier-Tav on down to Percvam.” He eyed Conner evenly. “There is unrest everywhere I go. Something is in the air, an unsettling, a foreboding of an unnamed thing.”
Conner waved off the mercenary. “It’s called knowing the land is ripe for civil war, my friend. Everyone knows it.” He gave a tight smile that was more malicious than he ever displayed in public. “What of my prince? How is he faring in Reshland of late? I’ve been stuck in this hell hole of a spineless King who doesn’t have what it takes to run a Kingdom.” Anger flashed across the Lord’s face.
“Oh, you know,” the mercenary’s mouth twisted into a smile that never reached his eyes. “Squabbles here and there to put down.”
The talk went on and Tims found nothing incriminating to Lord Conner. It was as if the two men were having small talk over every random thing.
“I hear Princess Averin is now of marrying age,” the mercenary said, and there was a strange glint in his eyes as he spoke.
Conner nodded slowly. “It is high time we get Averin out from under her father’s house. We need to grease the hinges of society, show her what life is truly like, not these petty games her father plays.”
“I know the perfect man for our princess,” the mercenary said softly. “He is from the far northern plains of Reshland. He holds a substantial amount of land. His father is the Lord of Ashter.”
“Ah! I know of him.” Conner’s expression twisted into something unpleasant. “Marry her off to Ashter, let her leave the gates of this palace to see what the world really is like.” He paused. “Princess Averin has grown over the years, don’t you think? Tomorrow we will have to make inquiries into marriage prospects. There are many fine men already vying for her attention.” His smile didn’t mask the sinister nature of his mood.
Tims’ heart pounded so loud he thought it could be overheard.
Lord Conner was sipping his ale and swirled it around in the light of the hearth. “With this coming festival, we will have to hurry prospects along.” He paused. “The Princess is becoming more and more like her mother, but her stubborn side is troubling. It’s too much like her father’s and we will have to change that.”
The way Conner spoke Averin’s name set off warning bells in Tims’ mind.
With sudden clarity, shivers ran up Tims’ spine. He couldn’t go to the King with what he was hearing. There was no proof. Even if he spoke word for word the conversation he had heard, he would sound like a lunatic spouting conspiracies.
No, this had to be brought to Hawkeyes’ attention immediately.
“It is understood then?” Conner asked pleasantly.
The mercenary replied, “I understand money. It will be done.” He extended his hand and Lord Conner shook it firmly.
Tims’ eyes caught sight of something. On the mercenary’s wrist was a tattoo—a circle with spheres positioned at intervals around its circumference.
The same symbol from the note. The mark of Kae Dias.
The mercenary rose from his seat and made his way to the door. Turning, he eyed the Lord. “Mark me, my Lord. There is something foul in the air. It’s not the smell of civil war but of something darker, something dark as night.” He turned again and was out the door.
* * *
Tims raced back through the hidden passages, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He was certain that if anyone stopped him, they would hear the distress in his voice. He tried to stay calm and look like any other servant, but his mind and body kept shouting at him to run. Part of studying under Hawkeyes had been learning to recognize key words often used when someone versed in the craft wanted to communicate something while using a completely different conversation.
Lord Conner was very adept at this sort of thing, Tims discovered with a cold realization. He had caught the key words, three in total, all pointing to something big. One of the words, however, stood out like a beacon. “Averin.” The entire talk had been about her!
He skidded to a halt and swore under his breath.
Hawkeyes wasn’t in his tower today! He was off on one of his own missions, leaving Tims on his own.
Fear ripped through him. He had to get word to somebody!
King Joshua? Even as the thought took shape, he turned down another darkly lit corridor leading to a flight of stairs.
Racing through the labyrinth, a million thoughts crowded his mind, demanding to be heard. What could he give the King as evidence? What were the true motivations of Lord Conner? What exactly had he planned?
Images of Averin with a dagger in her back flashed through his mind, and he cringed, fear spurring him forward. Another image came, the way she would meet him each morning dressed in her riding clothes, smiling in a way that warmed his heart. But he had to admit it now. He had loved her, as Daniel so often reminded him. He knew he was in trouble. He tried to keep these feelings buried. He was Averin’s friend, not her lover! What kind of insanity was this?
Even as these thoughts raced through his head, the servants’ back entrance to King Joshua’s private chambers came into view. At this time in the afternoon, the King would be wading through a mountain of legal documents that had been piling up, needing his attention.
Taking the flight of stairs two at a time, Tims forced himself to slow down, doing his best to appear inconspicuous. He had to calm his nerves!
Stop letting emotions drive you!
He cursed himself, forced himself to pause, and took a steadying breath before opening the door.
The royal parlor was adorned with rich tapestries of dyed fabrics in exotic, hard-to-find colors. This was the work of Queen Anna, who liked to leave her mark here and there throughout the palace. As the days went by, the atmosphere grew more decorative, matching the growing anticipation of the upcoming Harvest Festival.
He hardly took in any of this, striding quickly down the plush red carpets. Guards stationed at intervals watched him with questioning looks.
Two more turns through the hallways and he reached the King’s private office. Giving two quick knocks, he entered without waiting for a response.
---
The royal office chamber was dimly lit, with shelves of books lining one wall and a polished desk table standing nearby. Usually, Queen Anna was here overlooking a mountain of papers herself, but she was off on one of her many missions preparing for the festival.
The other end of the office held a large window overlooking the Rock river. A plush cushioned chair sat nearby with a coffee table and a pile of papers. Next to the stack was the usual quill pen and the jar of crimson sealing wax, still warm from recent use.
Joshua was gazing out the window when Tims came near. He hadn’t moved or acknowledged when Tims had entered, a good sign. The King was in one of his more contemplative moods today. If he wasn’t, he would get that annoyed look on his face and grumble at being disturbed.
Tims stopped short of where Joshua stood and waited, his breathing still slightly elevated from his hurried journey.
“You’re early for your rounds with me today, Tims. What’s on your mind?”
Tims hesitated, taking a steadying breath.
Joshua half-turned at his unusual hesitation, his brows furrowing in concern.
“My Lord, I think I have discovered a plot against your family, particularly Averin.”
Joshua’s expression turned grave. He waved to the chair opposite his own and said, “Let’s hear it.”
Tims sat in the offered seat and began to relate what he had witnessed in Lord Conner’s study. Hardly into the retelling, Joshua raised a hand to stall him. Pulling a cord beside his desk, he rose and made his way to the door. Almost immediately, a page appeared in the doorway. Joshua murmured something, and a few seconds later, the boy was gone. Returning to his seat, Joshua simply said, “Wait a moment.”
Within the span of only a minute, the page returned, bearing two steaming mugs on a small tray.
When the page came near, Tims immediately recognized the distinctive herbal smell and raised his brows slightly.
Setting the mugs carefully on the desk, the page bowed and left. Joshua took his mug and sipped slowly, his eyes closing as the tea began its work.
“That was rather fast,” Tims remarked, looking at his own mug with newfound understanding.
Joshua chuckled softly. “Hawkeyes isn’t the only one who uses memory tea, you know. I drink it regularly to keep a sharp mind.” He pointed to the mug before Tims. “You’re not the first one Hawkeyes trained. I have some skill myself. I am always watching and listening to those around me.”
Tims looked up at this revelation. “You studied under Hawkeyes?” He couldn’t hide the shock on his face.
“A little,” Joshua said with a slight smile. “Enough to speak with Anna in public if need be.”
“She knows the skill too?” Tims shook his head slowly, his assumptions about the royal couple shifting. “I thought...” He left it at that.
“Now,” the King said, his tone turning serious, “retell everything that happened in Lord Conner’s study.”
Sipping the tea, Tims let its powerful magic work through him. With another sip, he settled back in the chair and closed his eyes. The images slowly surfaced in the forefront of his mind, crystallizing with remarkable clarity. And with the images came the words, sharp and distinct.
He recited word for word everything that had been spoken in Lord Conner’s study, each phrase emerging with the precision the memory tea granted.
When finished, he took another sip and leaned back, feeling his brain throb from the taxing recollection.
Joshua had risen from his chair during Tims’ retelling and paced back and forth before the window. At length, he stopped and stared out at the river below. “How many key words did you count?”
“Three,” Tims replied with certainty. “Grease, gate, and Averin.”
“You are certain there were only three?”
Tims nodded, though sudden doubt crept in. Had he missed something? Watching the back of Joshua’s head, he couldn’t discern what the King was thinking. “I repeated everything word for word. I even punctuated every syllable used.”
Joshua nodded and gestured. “I know you did. The thing is, I believe there is one other word. I can’t be certain though since I wasn’t the one listening in. Now repeat the last part about the princess.”
Tims closed his eyes, feeling the memory tea still working through his mind.
“Princess Averin has grown over the years, don’t you think? Tomorrow we will have to make inquiries into marriage prospects. There are many fine men already vying for her attention.” Tims repeated the words again, his voice taking on the inflection of Lord Conner’s visitor.
“...The Princess Averin is becoming more and more like her mother but her stubborn side is troubling. It’s too much like her father’s and we will have to change that.”
Joshua raised a hand and Tims stopped mid-breath. With a sudden nod to himself, the King said, “Tomorrow we will have to make inquiries...” He turned from the glass, his eyes sharp as they met Tims’. “Tomorrow. It’s the fourth key word. Tomorrow, Tims.”
Tims’ stomach twisted hard as if something heavy pressed against him.
A slow, deliberate fist formed in King Joshua’s hands, knuckles whitening. In a controlled voice that barely masked his anger, he said, “Have you told anyone else this?”
“No, sir.” Tims replied immediately. “Nobody saw me and I didn’t stop to speak with anyone.”
Joshua nodded slowly, his jaw working as he processed the implications. After a long moment, he said, “I am suspending all of your other duties for today and tomorrow. I’m going to have Yothin look into this strange visitor of Lord Conner’s. For your part, use whatever means you have, but discreetly, to get close to Lord Conner again. If you have to,” he hesitated, looking back at the river as if the water might offer answers, he made dismissive gesture. “My hands are tied. If I make a move against him now, the Court will cry injustice and turn against my rule.”
Tims frowned. “Isn’t that your right though? You are King after all.”
Joshua gave a bitter laugh that held no humor. “Years ago, I had that power. I controlled the nobles by word alone.” He paused, and it seemed part of his spirit died as he continued. “These days, I walk a thin line with the lords at court. Their allegiance is to the crown, so long as nobody challenges it.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “I have known for some time now that there are those plotting against me, waiting for just the right moment to make their move.”
“Your brother?” Tims asked quietly, remembering the book Hawkeyes had left him.
Joshua chuckled without mirth. “Is it that obvious to everyone?” He made a face before continuing. “Yes, Ralston is waiting for me to make a wrong move. He’s already got rumors spreading in the cities across the country. I have no male heir. Despite Averin’s understanding of her role in this affair, nobody has seen her tested in leadership. It makes people worry about the future of the kingdom.”
“And if she can be taken out now, that would speed his plans considerably.” Tims concluded in a whispered voice, the pieces falling into place. He looked toward the river now too, watching the current move steadily southward. Sarsda was made up of a vast multitude of people from all over the known lands, not just native Sarsdans. To plant fear in the middle of such a volatile mixture of people could spark violence. The Harvest Festival, with its crowds and celebration, was a perfect opportunity.
Turning away from the view, the King sat back down in his chair and closed his eyes, looking suddenly older. “I am playing a dangerous game already and wonder if it’s worth the risk.”
“My Lord?” Tims asked, cocking his head slightly. He didn’t understand what Joshua meant.
King Joshua made a dismissive gesture, as if waving away his own thoughts. “Never mind. Go scout out Lord Conner and his men. I want to know what he is planning. I need hard proof of his involvement, Tims. Nothing less will do. Understand?”
Tims nodded firmly. “Yes, my Lord. I will find your proof.” He bowed slightly and rose from the chair, making his way toward the door.
As the door closed behind him and he found himself back in the hallway, he took several deep breaths, trying to steady his racing heart. He wasn’t just chasing thieves anymore. This was conspiracy against the crown itself. Against Averin. This was going to take every skill Hawkeyes had taught him.
Taking several strides faster than normal, he made his way to Hawkeyes’ apartments, needing tools he didn’t have on hand. He had one day to gather evidence. Less than a day, really. Time was cutting it dangerously short.
A darker thought began to take shape as well, cold and certain. Anyone who laid their hands on his princess would find his dagger in their throat.