The Jester: Unexpected Help (1)
Episode 26: "Contagious Despair"
Worry lined Mardans’ face as he paced the length of the King’s Study, back and forth like a caged lion. Alfons and Lirens watched him, concerned. They had never seen him so near despair, making them realize how close his friendship with the fiery redhead was.
Wet and bedraggled, Aran slumped in a chair by the fire, head in his hands. “It’s all my fault,” he said for the fifth time in about as many minutes.
Mardans stopped and wheeled on him, eyes blazing. “Stop that! The kidnappers are at fault! You found her gone. You went looking for her, using your head and supposing she had gone shopping. You found her, albeit a minute too late. You chased her abductors. You immediately returned and notified us. In my judgment, you have acquitted yourself admirably. I’m proud of you.”
He walked over and placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Now, get up. Go to my mother’s house and clean yourself up. Tell my mother what has happened and ask her to alert her agents. Stay with her and follow her instructions. When I figure out what to do, I will send for you. Got that?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, not yet shaking his hang-dog posture. “I still feel terrible, like I let her down.”
King Alfons cleared his throat. “Aran, if I may offer some advice, turn that emotion into determination to find her and punish her kidnappers. It is what I have learned to do since the theft of Margonne’s dagger.”
Lirens chuckled. “What my august brother means is ‘Stop wallowing and get back in the saddle!’ Don’t they say something like that out in Blayne?”
Aran grinned through his tears. “My dad owns a general store, my lord. He said, ‘Stop wallowin’ and stock another shelf!’ Same difference, I suspect.”
“That’s the spirit!” Lirens said, rising. “Let’s go. I’ll show you a way out close to where you need to go.” The two of them bowed to the king and left the study.
Resuming his pacing, Mardans considered one ultimately unworkable plan after another to find his missing partner. She’s like a little sister who’s always getting into trouble, he thought, and needing me to come to her rescue. But this time, things feel different. What can I do? Like his search for Margonne’s dagger’s whereabouts, he had not the slightest clue about where Dinae’s kidnappers might have taken her. By now, she could be well out of the city or bound and gagged nearby. There was simply no way to know.
“If we are to find her, we will have to wait until the kidnappers send their demands,” Alfons said, coming to the same conclusion. “We know nothing to point us in the right direction.”
“And that’s exactly what’s so frustrating about this whole investigation!” his half-brother said, his frustration bursting unrestrained from his mouth. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be much good at this, and that is what has happened! I’m stuck. Even the good lead about the Tanjari-trained guard working for the Tilantas has come to nothing. He can’t be found!”
The king gave him a faint smile. “Now you’re the one wallowing, brother! You have done well—far more than I expected in so short a time. I have no regrets about putting you on the scent, as faint as it was. The chase is just going to take longer than we thought.”
“And how many others will be kidnapped or killed because I’m not sharp enough?” Mardans asked, his voice rising. “How many others’ misfortunes will be on my conscience?”
“I pray few or none,” Alfons said. “But, truly, the guilt for their misfortunes lies not on your head but on the despicable curs who perpetrate the crimes. I seem to recall hearing you say that recently.” The thin smile returned.
“Point taken, sire,” Mardans conceded.
“Accept this royal command, Mardans,” the king said softly. “Make yourself a plate and a drink. Sit. Eat and drink. Calm yourself. You may not have a chance to do so later. On campaign, soldiers know to eat and sleep when they can because they don’t know when the next opportunity will arise. I will do the same. We can think while we eat.”
“Yes, lord.” Mardans filled a plate with bread, meat, cheese, and fruit and poured himself a tall mug of ale, and the king followed behind at the sideboard. After a moment, he was glad of the suggestion, remembering his hunger and realizing doing these mundane things settled his anxiety somewhat.
A quarter-hour later, finishing their repast, a soft knock on the door was followed by the return of Lirens, who ushered a young teenage boy into the study. Garbed in palace livery, the boy was obviously a page. He bowed to the king and handed him a sealed, blood-red envelope, stepping back to await instructions. Surprise filled the king’s features. After breaking the seal, Alfons scanned the contents, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. He told the boy to return to his post.
“Ill news?” Lirens asked after the page had left.
The king shook his head slightly. “No, curious news,” he said, looking up at the prince. “A summons.”
“What?” Lirens and Mardans said in unison.
“Who has the authority to summon you, my lord?” Mardans added.
The king chuckled. “My queen and, apparently, this person whom I know only by reputation. Or perhaps I should say, by her predecessors’ reputations.”
“Now I’m really curious,” Lirens said, pulling a grape off a small cluster and popping it into his mouth. “Who is it, Alfons?”
He looked up, saying, “The Prophetess.”
“Who?” the half-brothers said together again.
Alfons laughed. “You two bonded as babies, didn’t you? You sound like twin owls.”
“At least we’re considered wise,” Lirens quipped, “but at the moment, we’re curious. Who is this Prophetess?”
The king took a moment to answer. “I guess the easiest answer is that she is the highest-ranking Leitani Wise Woman. That is at least her public office. But from what we know of them from history, they hold a far more important spiritual office.”
“So, she’s some sort of female priestess of Azuri?” Lirens asked.
Alfons looked at him. “Did I say anything about Azuri? And no, she’s not a priestess. A prophetess. Big difference from what I’ve been able to gather.”
Mardans had been quiet through their exchange, trying to recall a tantalizing nugget of information that floated through his mind just out of reach. The king’s last comment allowed him to catch it. “I thought that sounded familiar! Remember, Qadira was a Wise Woman even before she met Margonne. In fact, just after she completed her studies, she was summoned to meet with the Prophetess of the day. She considered it a high honor, especially for someone so young and untried.
“Anyway, the stories say the Prophetess gave her a choice between becoming her successor or aiding Margonne. If I remember correctly, she told Qadira that she foresaw she would do something important either way. The choice was hers. Of course, Qadira chose to help Margonne.”
“Yeah, now I remember!” Lirens said. “And the other job fell to the Prophetess’ assistant, right?”
“Correct,” the king said, “and this Prophetess is a direct descendant of that assistant if the tales are true.”
They fell silent for a long moment before Lirens asked, “When does she want to see you?”
Alfons grinned. “Immediately, of course!” He laughed. “Isn’t that always the case? Nothing can wait! But her invitation reads that she requests ‘the presence of the three sons of the late Lorens, King of Margonne, second of his name in his august lineage.’ And what are we three but our father’s sons?”
“We three are the only three,” Lirens said. “You’re included, Dance!”
“I’m shocked,” Mardans said. “I wouldn’t want to miss it now!”
“Where are we going to meet her?” Lirens asked.
“Let me guess,” Mardans interjected. “The Akan Ganda?”
The king grinned. “Correct! I knew you were the smart one!”
“Where?” Lirens asked, baffled.
“The lightning rock,” Mardans suggested.
“Oh, there!” the prince said, nodding. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
“Does her invitation say anything about what she wants to talk to us about?” Mardans asked. “It’d be nice to know what this is all about.”
“Yes,” the king replied. “One more cryptic line: ‘I have answers.’”
A note:
Indeed, the tales were true. The present Prophetess was a direct firstborn-daughter-to-firstborn-daughter descendant of that original assistant, a Wise Woman named Zibia. The Prophetess of Qadira’s day, Nabila, gave Zibia and her female descendants the responsibility to safeguard a book of prophecy until it was needed in a time to come. That Prophetess told her, “Your chief responsibility is to preserve it and pass it on to your daughter, and she to her daughter, and so on until it falls into the hands of the daughter destined to present it to the young, white-haired mother of children not her own.” In Mardans’ lifetime, the prophesied young woman had still not appeared.