After an enjoyable dinner with his two favorite women—his mother and Liandra—and walking the latter to the Dowager Queen’s quarters, Mardans returned to his room in the palace. He wanted to think, to pace, to sort out all the advice he had received. But once the room’s door shut behind him, and he threw his jacket over the back of a chair, he discovered he had no desire to be there. He had been sitting and pacing there for days on end, and being there had not helped him find a solution to his Formosis Problem, as he had begun to think about it.
On a whim, he took the secret door and stairs to the lower level. He had never gone there on his own, not without Alfons, Lirens, or one of the king’s retainers giving him entry, but he took the chance that the king would be there, completing his celebration of the return of Margonne’s dagger with a quiet evening and a nightcap. That would be so like Alfons, he thought with an internal grin.
Tentatively, he knocked on the door, and to his surprise, he heard, “Come!” He entered, noticing that the king, already in a blue silk dressing gown, was alone and nursing an amber-colored drink in a crystal tumbler.
“Mardans!” Alfons said happily. “I thought it might be you! With Lirens away, I was actually hoping we could speak privately for once.”
“I had the same desire, brother,” Mardans said, heading for the sideboard to pour himself a copy of what the king was drinking. “We can speak more seriously tonight.”
He sat across from the king, leaning back and crossing his legs. “What a fine trio we are, we three sons of Lorens! A king, a jester, and a prince. One of these is not like the others.”
“Ah, but you are the best of jesters, are you not?” Alfons argued. “And more than a jester—a fine officer of the Guard, a skilled investigator, and perhaps most of all, a loyal and loving brother, son, and friend. You should not sell yourself short, Mardans.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Mardans said, smiling. “But I was not fishing for a compliment—just musing on how far we’ve come. Our childhood days of playing and exploring are long past.”
“Truly,” the king agreed. “We must deal with the real world now, real problems, real evils, and many of them with very serious consequences. Some are life-and-death matters. Some could affect the kingdom for generations—or even all Osegra. I can tell you honestly, I did not want such responsibility this soon. It has been wearing.”
“It’s my turn to encourage you, I see,” Mardans said with a chuckle. “I think you have weathered this first year quite well! Among the people—who love you and Constans—you already have a reputation for wisdom and fairness, not to mention your marked difference in behavior from your august but unfaithful and wayward predecessor.” He smirked.
Alfons lifted his glass in a salute. “My thanks, little brother. Though these last few months have been trying, they have also brought me joy because they have brought you back to us. We are a complete family again.”
Mardans smiled and nodded in agreement. “My mother and I have relished the wholehearted welcome we’ve received—except for the Dowager. But even her response was less caustic than I had imagined it would be.”
Alfons laughed. “Indeed! Truth be told, she has been angry at Father all along, but she found it easier—and more politic—to take it out on you and Tiena. It pains me she took that route, but she had little choice in the end. He was the king, and constant criticism of the monarch is a risky path to take, even for a queen. As you know, she tends to do what is expedient, and then she digs in her heels and will not reconsider. You and I both combat her contentiousness and stubbornness, just on different issues.”
“I just hope she doesn’t give me any trouble on Liandra’s account,” Mardans said.
“Yes, Lady Marini!” the king exclaimed, grinning. “You would have to pursue Mother’s lady-in-waiting, wouldn’t you? I fear she may give you a hard time just because it reminds her of Father’s lecherous pursuit of Tiena.”
Mardans’ face hardened. “It won’t end like that. I am not like Father in that way.” He took a moment to compose himself. “But I believe you’re right. She will be difficult, thinking she’s protecting Liandra’s honor.”
“Maybe I can—” Alfons began.
“No, Alfons,” Mardans cut him off. “I do not want you to damage your relationship with your mother on our account. We can handle it. Besides, her opposition will only make us stronger in the long run. But, thank you very much for offering.” He gave him a small bow with his head and shoulders.
Alfons nodded and rose to refill his glass. “I take it nothing new has come up in the search for Formosis?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No, nothing of substance,” Mardans replied, frowning. “But I have a new approach to looking for him, provided by our friend, the Prophetess. She says I’ve been too single-minded up to now, trying to figure it out solely by logic and raw intelligence, so she suggests a more holistic approach, using emotion, intuition, imagination, inspiration—those sorts of things. She thinks the purely rational approach is actually stifling my gift. Nuha Tamim says I must be the Finder, not just try to find him.”
“Sounds reasonable,” the king said, smiling slightly at his own pun.
Mardans ignored it. “So, I have a question. Do you think Formosis is scared?”
“That seems a little odd,” Alfons commented.
“Well, I ask because I’ve always assumed he is brash and bold and supremely confident. That he is sure he will prevail. That he has a superior intellect and is bound to beat whoever would contest him. Why would he ever begin if he didn’t think he was smarter than everyone else?”
“Even if your thinking is correct, I wonder if it still holds true,” Alfons said after a moment of consideration. “Much has changed since all this began. He’s now a rat trapped in a corner. He will be dangerous because fear of capture and death have now entered the picture.”
“We have also whittled away his allies,” Mardans added. “I’m sure he still has a few retainers left, wherever he is hiding, but I doubt he has much of an organization left. Anyone who helped him along the way has likely turned his back on him.”
“Do you suppose he will run like his sister did?” the king asked.
Mardans shook his head. “I think he will wait to see if she is successful, but he will scrap the idea once she returns to Palisade in chains.”
“What then? He will remain in hiding?”
His brother shrugged. “Either that or somehow force the issue. As I see it, it all depends on his mindset. If he is fearful, he’ll hide as long as he can. If he’s self-confident, he will act rashly. Sometimes, I am convinced one way, and at other times, the other. That’s how I’m slowly driving myself mad.”
“Which way, mad jester, are you leaning at the moment?” Alfons asked, his expression amused.
“Well, since speaking with the Prophetess, I’ve been thinking that I need to force the issue. Act to get a reaction. I seem to do better when I’m thrust into an active situation. I think that when I’m entirely committed and involved, mind, body, and soul.”
The king slowly nodded as he analyzed what Mardans was saying. “Your current problem, then, is what you need to do to draw him out.”
“Exactly. How do I challenge him to show his face when I don’t even know where he is? And do it in a way that will not endanger those I love or doesn’t foolishly throw my life away?”
They were silent for long minutes as each contemplated the answers to Mardans’ questions. Mardans put his glass down and, rising, began to pace, head down, his hands clasped behind his back. The king watched him as he walked the room’s length a half-dozen times.
Finally, Mardans threw up his hands. “Nothing works if I don’t know where he is. My thinking always comes back to this: I must find his hiding place before I can do anything else because, otherwise, he can simply ignore me. He will never leave his secure bolt-hole unless he feels threatened there. He can just wait us out.”
“So, we’ve gotten nowhere,” Alfons said, frustrated. “We have just come back around to where we started.”
“I’ve been stuck in this never-ending circle for days!” Mardans growled. “And I am past being annoyed at it. Now I’m getting angry.”
“Not as easy as pulling kittens out of your cap, is it?” the king asked gently, taking the last sip of his drink. When Mardans failed to answer him after a long moment, the king looked over at his brother, who was standing still, hands now on his hips, staring fixedly at a point on the carpet a few feet in front of him. Silently, he watched him, not wanting to break Mardans’ concentration.
A minute later, the jester came out of his trance-like state with a slight shake and turned immediately to the king. “You did it!” he said, his face shining. Alfons, elder brother and king, you’re a wonder!”
“What did I do?” the king asked, confused. “I was merely trying to commiserate with you.”
“And your words gave my gift the spark it needed!”
“How?” the king asked, still perplexed.
“You remember how that magic trick works, right? I explained it to Constans that night after the show when she asked.”
“Yes, I remember,” the king replied. “I thought it was devious but effective.”
“And we used a similar trick to fool Spear and his minions into thinking Mrs. Luven and Sidy were hiding at my mother’s house on the Third Level.”
It took the king a moment to see how Mardans’ mind had put the two tricks together. Then he nodded in understanding. “Both used misdirected hiding places. The kittens were never in your hat, and the women were never—well, they were, fleetingly—in the lower house.”
“Correct!” Mardans said, grinning. “You might make a good magician yet!” He rubbed his hands quickly together. “I think—no, I know—Formosis has done something similar to us.”
A note:
Along with his wife, King Alfons was indeed well-loved by the Margonni people, and their affection never wavered. He was blessed with a long reign, forty-seven years. Not long into it, the people began adding “the Wise” when speaking or writing about him, probably due, as Mardans mentioned, to the stark difference between him and his father. Selfless, thoughtful, and just, Alfons made decisions with the Kingdom’s and the people’s best interests at heart, and his policy strengthened and enriched Margonne.
His heir, Aldons, who resembled his grandfather, Lorens II, in both looks and behavior, had little time to make his mark on the nation. He reigned for only three years, much of which he spent slowly succumbing to a disease, perhaps some form of cancer. He left the throne to his twenty-nine-year-old son, Lorens III, who had ruled as regent with him for the final two years of Aldons’ life.