Chapter 14

The two dragons stared at each other for a few moments, making the low rumbling noises that Gwendolyn had become so accustomed to. At times, the larger dragon would sweep her snout in Gwendolyn’s direction, seeming to indicate her as she communicated with Solithi. Next to her mother, the red dragon looked almost miniscule, almost harmless. Although Gwendolyn didn’t know what they were discussing, it was clear from the way that the big blue dragon snorted little tendrils of what looked like smoke curled from the nostrils. However, it wasn’t grey or thick, the way that Solithi’s smoke was. It looked more like steam, pure white and wafting out in thin curlicues.

Solithi was making little chirruping noises, and her head seemed to nod up and down, almost like an answer to a query.

After a while, Harplie, the large sapphire colored dragon, turned back to the King. A look flashed between them, though not a sound passed either’s lips.

“Interesting,” the King said, turning back to Gwendolyn, “so you didn’t kill Prince Barlan. And Solithi says you did help her.”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who your son is, I never met him.”

The King looks pained. “If I am honest,” he says, sadness in every word, “I hoped you had killed my son. We still don’t know who did. I had hoped… when Solithi was spotted I hoped that she was bringing me my son’s killer.”

Gwendolyn bowed low to the ground, mumbling another apology as she went. Suddenly, a loud hiss and a low meow emerged from her bag, and she felt a sudden movement in her rucksack.

Embarrassed, she hastily removed the pack from her back.

“What is that?” asked the King in an imperious tone, sounding both curious and annoyed.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,” Gwendolyn said, as she fumbled with the knot on the top of the bag. A second later, Marelon came clawing out, tumbling to the floor in an undignified manner with a little screech.

“Oh-ho,” said the King with a delighted chuckle. “Well, a little stowaway?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said with a little smile, pleased that the King seemed unperturbed by Marelon’s sudden and unrequested appearance. “I had to, uh, run away from home. I raised him from the time he was a kitten and he demanded to come with me.”

“Well, he certainly seems used to getting his way,” he said as the little cat marched straight up to Harplie and began to sniff her. Harplie seemed disturbed by this development, once again snorting steam out her nostrils and looking at the King. The King simply laughed. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, he’s called…” Gwendolyn hesitated, blushing deeply. The King stared at her, his head tilting to one side. After a moment Gwendolyn continued, stuttering out, “he’s called Marelon.”

King Arelon stared at Gwendolyn for a long time. Then he burst out laughing. “Why is that?” he asked.

Gwendolyn chuckled nervously. “Well, Your Highness, when I found him, he was always very—” she stopped short, realizing that the word she was about to use was ‘demanding.’ “Regal,” she finally said. “Always acted like he was in charge,” she added, “even had a little favorite chair, I used to call it his throne,” Gwendolyn blushed more and more with each word. “And so, since he was our little king, I started calling him King, and then after a while I thought, Marelon, like King Arelon but… with a meow…”

The King continued to laugh, and slowly so did the men around him. Finally, Gwendolyn laughed a little too. The King’s chuckles finally subsided, and he wiped a single tear from his eye, before saying, “well, I am honored. Truly.” As the King settled down, his sapphire dragon settled herself next to his throne. He absentmindedly scratched at her scales before saying, “my son was attacked while learning to fly. My other son here, Aparen,” the short-haired man standing by the throne bowed to her, gently. She felt a heat on her cheeks that had nothing to do with embarrassment as the King continued, “was with him when archers attacked them from the ground.” The Prince nodded. He looked sad, staring intently at the ground.

“Both were injured,” the King said. “Prince Aparen took an arrow to the chest. But his dragon is larger and was able to cradle him and fly to safety. My youngest was not so lucky. No one knows exactly where he fell. We’ve never recovered the body. When Solithi didn’t return to the castle, we assumed the worst.”

Gwendolyn lowered her eyes to the floor, nodding. She had suspected something must have happened to Solithi, to be so far and so injured without a rider.

“I thought something must have happened, but I also didn’t know that, well,” she paused for a second. “I knew how the Royal Family was alone able to control the dragons. But with her being so young, and being injured, I didn’t know if she had come from the City of Gold somehow, if maybe she didn’t have a human pairing.”

“Of course,” said the King kindly. “There was no way for you to know what had happened. The attack started all the way at the border to Krastiv. Word didn’t reach us for several days, let alone make it through the kingdom by the trade routes.”

“It’s likely that you found Solithi before I even made it back to Ardelen,” added the Prince. “I only returned about a fortnight ago.”

“I see,” said Gwendolyn. “I’m truly sorry for your loss,” she addressed them both. “I’m glad that I was able to help Solithi. She helped me as well, truth be told. I was headed to Ardelen myself, but I didn’t even know how to get here. Before today, I’d never left The Floating Valley, where I was born. I only left Bartet two weeks ago for the very first time.”

“Bartet, hmmmm, Bartet. On The Floating Valley, right? Of course, I believe I had commissioned a bank there, years ago.”

“Yes,” Gwendolyn smiled. “You did. Erod Tavel is our bookkeeper. My brother is his apprentice.”

“Ah yes, Erod. A fine man.”

“What did you say your name was?” asked Prince Aparen.

“Gwendolyn Fields,” said Gwendolyn, unable to meet his gaze.

“Well Miss Fields, may I ask why you needed to leave home? You said you ran away.” She finally looked up to see his piercing, blue-purple stare fixed upon her. For a moment she was dumbfounded, lost in his gaze. The people of The Floating Valley had light eyes in blues and greys, sometimes even greens, but no one had the dark blue, almost deep purple eyes of the Prince. They looked like violets, almost, and when she looked at them, she half expected to see a yellow ring around the pupils just like on the flowers that used to grow by the barn.

She was snapped out of her reverie when she realized that everyone in the room, even the dragons, were still staring at her, waiting for her answer.

“Well, I, I suppose it’s a long story,” she finally said, hoping they wouldn’t ask anything more.

“I suppose I have plenty of time,” said the King, in a tone that commanded. She knew she had to tell them her story.

“I guess it all begins when I was born then,” she said, closing her eyes. She dreaded relaying this story, dreaded that they would react the same way her family had when they heard what had happened to her brother. She opened her eyes again and the words rushed out, “I was a twin, you see, except my mother didn’t know. Before my birth, the midwife told her she was expecting one boy. When I was born, I guess everyone assumed she had been wrong about the gender. No one expected a second baby, so the midwife was leaving when my brother was born. Because no one was expecting it and the midwife wasn’t there to make sure he came out properly, he was twisted into a weird position. He died three weeks later.” She paused, looking searchingly at the King’s face for signs that he had soured on her, but all she saw was polite confusion.

After a moment, Prince Aparen asked, “why did this mean you had to leave home?”

Startled that they didn’t look at her with immediate revulsion, she elaborated, “well, my parents wanted a boy, my brother. Garryan was his name.”

Still, the King looked confused. “Are you their only child?” he asked, then added, “only living child, I mean.”

“No, I have two older brothers, as well as three younger sisters and four younger brothers.”

“And yet your parents are angry that you lived, simply due to the chance of your birth?” Prince Aparen sounds puzzled, now exchanging a strange look with his father.

“Yes,” said Gwendolyn. “Sir, sorry. Yes sir,” she added respectfully, before continuing. “Because they were expecting a boy. And wanted a boy, my brother. Not me. And so, they were rather hard on me for my childhood. I was taken out of school at eleven years old, when my oldest sibling went on to an apprenticeship. I needed to help in the fields. And I was upset about that, but it isn’t the reason I left. I left because they were planning to marry me to a wealthy merchant’s son. A man who I did not love, or even like. In fact, I didn’t know him at all, other than by his unfavorable reputation.”

Prince Aparen made a face, one of disgust and anger. But when he spoke, it seemed not to be directed at Gwendolyn, to her surprise. “You were blamed from birth for an accident that wasn’t your fault, denied an education, and then sold off to a stranger?”

“Is it not common here in the Capitol for young women to be married to men they do not know, men chosen by their family?”

“It is,” the King chimed in darkly, “to my chagrin. I am attempting to make changes, but people resist change.”

“Well,” the Prince said, studying Gwendolyn intently, “I certainly shouldn’t think we will send you back there, will we father?”

“No,” the King said slowly. “No, no. I don’t think so.” He motioned to a nearby servant, wearing a tunic with the Maitala coat of arms emblazoned on the front. The servant rushed forward and up the dais to the King’s side, bending down to listen as the King whispered in his ear. After a moment, the servant nodded and stepped away from the King’s side.

“Gavral here will escort you to a room. You’ll remain here as my guest for at least a few days, and we can discuss what to do with you in the long term. You’re here at a lovely time, as three days from now we are going to be holding the Celebration of the Second Goddess.”

Gwendolyn nodded. She had completely forgotten. Then again, she hadn’t expected to be anywhere near others at this time. She would have expected to still be on the road.

Without any further exchange, the servant, Gavral, stepped forward. “If the lady would come with me,” he said, bowing before her. He then rushed forward, toward a set of double doors at the far end of the hall, past the large silver doors she had entered through.

With one last glance at Prince Aparen, she turned to follow the servant out of the room, motioning to Marelon as she turned, and was grateful when he obeyed her for once. The double doors she was headed for were still large, but not as large as the silver doors that led to the courtyard. These doors were made of a rich, dark wood and were elaborately engraved. She had not gotten even halfway to the silver doors, which themselves stood just a little less than halfway down the hall when she heard a scurrying noise behind her.

She turned and saw Solithi following her, and in a few short strides she had reached Gwendolyn’s side and nudged at Gwendolyn’s arm with her snout.

“Hey, girl,” Gwendolyn said in a low tone of voice, “I don’t think you’re meant to follow me.”

“Solithi,” commanded King Maitala. “Stay here.” As he called out, Harplie gave a low growl. Solithi looked back at the pair, standing on the dais and staring at Solithi and Gwendolyn. Solithi looked back at Gwendolyn, and the low grumbling began again from Harplie.

Solithi made a low chittering noise once again, and Marelon gave a little meow from next to Gwendolyn. Solithi lowered her head to touch Marelon’s nose, then turned around and ran back to the dais.

Smiling, Gwendolyn turned and rushed after Gavral, who had not stopped. When he reached the wooden doors, he stopped just long enough for two uniformed guards to open the doors. The momentary pause gave Gwendolyn enough time to catch up to him, and she strode through the doors into a wide, dark paneled hallway. On one side, the hallway was lined with massive windows, through which she could see the courtyard alive in sparkling sunshine. The other was filled with richly embroidered tapestries in bold, gorgeous colors. Doors dotted the hallway at somewhat regular intervals, single doors that were somehow almost as imposing as the large double doors she had just passed through, each one carved with an intricate latticework pattern.

She followed Gavral as he marched straight down the hall, turning right into a new hallway, and then up a set of stairs. Shortly past the top of the stairs, Gavral stopped.

“Your room, ma’am,” he said, opening the door. She walked timidly past him and into the most splendid room she had ever seen. Almost the size of her entire house, the room had a beautiful blue bedcover, the same color as the sky just before the sun started to go down. Looking up, she saw the high ceiling had been painted to match, giving the room the impression of opening up to the air. This impression was only marred by thick, dark wood beams, from which hung gorgeous chandeliers. Turning to one side, she saw discreet ladders in both corners of the left-hand side of the room, which she presumed were used to light the chandeliers at night. Opposite the bed, next to the door she had just come through, was a magnificent fireplace, a fire already roaring in the hearth somehow, though she couldn’t think when anyone would have had time to prepare it. The walls were hung with tapestries much like the ones outside, depicting a menagerie. Sunshine poured in from floor to ceiling windows along one wall, with thick, plush draperies pulled back to let the sun in. She noticed a balcony beyond the window. In one corner was another door.

She headed for the door curiously, and as she did so Marelon hopped up onto the bed, walking in circles a few times before sitting down decisively, curling up, and immediately beginning to nap. Gwendolyn pushed open the door and saw an exquisite baths room. A massive stone bathtub sat in the center of the room, on a raised platform, far grander and larger than the roughhewn wooden one that sat in her home. Next to it, she saw what appeared to be a water basin, but there were no jugs of water.

Glancing around, she realized that while there was a toilet tucked into one corner and set into a bench carved into the wall, there was no way of opening the bench.

“How do they empty the chamber pot?” she asked curiously.

“Ah, well, that’s a marvelous thing about this castle. It was renovated just twenty years ago. You’ve heard of running water, I presume?”

“Well, I’ve heard of water pumps,” she said cautiously.

Gavral laughed. He walked over to the water basin and motioned her to follow him to stand before it. When she did, she noticed two curious spouts, both covered with tiny metal fixtures. “Put your hands out under this one,” he said, and she did as instructed. Gavral then removed the cover and to Gwendolyn’s utter surprise, water flowed out and onto her hands.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “But how?” she asked. Gavral covered the little spout once more.

“I don’t quite understand it myself, to be honest. But as far as I do understand it, His Majesty copied the idea from Parceean design. Saw it when he visited the country as a Prince, before the death of his father, the late King. There are a series of pipes laid into the floors of the Palace and they carry water from the river, using aqueducts. Those are like raised, man-made rivers. The water is pushed along to the castle and into large tanks in the cellars. I don’t entirely understand how, but the servants who tend the tanks create pressure which forces the water up the pipes and into the rooms. Several of the chalets in town have similar designs, though on a smaller scale of course. This pipe,” he said, tapping on the one he hadn’t opened, “has hot water, heated by servants twenty-four hours of the day.”

She stared at the pipe for a moment in awe, then scrambled to open the spout. Hot water came pouring out instantly, steam rising from the basin. With a delighted laugh, she put her hands under the stream and gave a little shiver of delight and surprise when it was hot to the touch.

Looking pleased with the young woman’s surprise and joy, Gavral said, “you can push the two together, like so,” and he used both hands to twist the spouts so that they almost touched right at the heads, “and then if you open them both,” he demonstrated, “the streams from each will combine and the water will be a warm sort of temperature.”

Gwendolyn just looked disbelievingly as the water continued to pour forth. Then she asked, “where is the water going?” as she pointed to a hole at the bottom of the basin.

“Ah, well, a separate set of pipes carries that water out to the sea, where the water can be deposited and purified by the Gods.”

She nodded. “Is that what happens…?” she motioned to the toilet behind her.

“Yes, but before that is returned to the sea, the waste passes through farmland where it is strained and heated, to prevent diseases from infecting the fish that we rely on for food. I don’t entirely understand how that works either, but our best doctors all swear by it as a necessary process for health. The King occasionally travels out that way, and while it is a beautiful part of the country, passing by the farmland on the riverbanks can sometimes come with an unpleasant odor when the heating is taking place. The King has commissioned many scholars to devise a solution to this, since foul odors can also cause disease.”

He turned away from the water basin, saying, “enough of this unpleasant talk. Come, you should freshen up before the evening meal.”

They both exited the washroom back to the large bed chamber. “Are you satisfied with these accommodations, ma’am?” Gavral asked, coming to a stop by the door to the hall.

For a moment Gwendolyn was simply stunned, unable to answer. Satisfied was quite the understatement! She was in awe of the luxury surrounding her. She began to laugh, and for a long moment was unable to stop.

Eventually she caught her breath, Gavral still staring politely at her as she chuckled. “Yes,” she finally managed to get out. “I’m more than satisfied, thank you.”

Gavral bowed deeply. “Pleased to hear it, my Lady.” He stood. “The evening meal will be in four hours’ time. The King has requested your presence at his table. If you wish to bathe, please ring that bell,” he motioned to a bell she hadn’t noticed previously that was next to the door, “and someone will come to assist you. Otherwise a servant will fetch you when it is time for supper.”

Without waiting for questions, he stepped through the door and out into the hall. He inclined his head at Gwendolyn and muttered a solicitous, “ma’am,” before closing the door, leaving Gwendolyn alone to stare in awe at her surroundings.