The Search

Chapter Four:

The Search

Many is the king who thought more of his wisdom than reality would consider wise.
Medgag: Why Kings are Men

The night of celebration soon became one of grief.

The king was absent too long from the banquet so, Queen Sari sought him out. She found him where Simon had left him in the chamber sitting in his chair, brooding, his face buried in his hands. His queen knew instantly that something was very wrong.

Merran and the king’s personal guards stood by the door. Their faces reflected a concern for their king and a helplessness of what to do for him.

She knelt at his feet whispering softly while trying to pry the story from him. His initial reluctance eventually gave way and the night’s events spilled out. At the conclusion of the telling, Sari fell back onto the floor as if pushed by some unseen hand. She covered her mouth with both hands. “No,” barely escaped her suddenly dry throat.

“What could I do? What have I done?” Crom asked of no one in particular.

The loss of his son had been traumatic but the sight of his mate so devastated by his actions was more than he could handle. Fury consumed him, replacing the sorrow. He practically leaped from the chair.

“Merran,” he shouted as though the noble warrior was in another room, “assemble a squad of your best warriors. We are going to retrieve my son.”

The warrior took a moment to recover from the abrupt change in his king. “As…as you command,” he responded rushing out of the door and down the hall to the banquet hall. In his mind he was already forming a list of the men he wanted for his squad. The celebration had continued despite the absence of the royal couple.

Two of the warriors he wanted were sitting at the royal table. Placing a hand on each shoulder, he leaned in between them and whispered, “Bring horse, sword and light armor to the main courtyard immediately.”

They did not hesitate. Both rose from the table and left the hall.

Merran moved down the length of the table and caught the eye of another warrior on his mental list. He pointed to the warrior and the two sitting with him at his table then motioned them to leave by the door at the back of the hall. That warrior tapped his companions on the back and the three started for the back of the banquet hall.

The noble warrior scanned the hall. He located another of his choices at a table in the rear. Crossing the room toward that warrior he passed two that were not on his list but were fitting for the task. He touched both on the shoulder, gesturing them to follow him. By now the three had reached the other warrior, he was aware that something was happening and joined Merran’s small unit. Merran met up with the other three warriors in the back of the hall. Noble Merran gave them the same instructions he had given the first two men.

Leaving the men to their duty, he returned to the king’s chamber where he found the king with a sword strapped to his hip. He accompanied Crom into the courtyard. His warriors had ten horses saddled and each was dressed in light armor and sword. Merran’s armor bearer with his horse and the horse of his noble warrior was also with the warriors. He strapped a sword on the noble warrior’s waist.

King and warriors mounted without a word spoken. The eleven left the palace at full gallop. Alert guards scrambled to open the gates before the horses rammed into them.

It was the fifth watch of the night so the streets were mostly empty of pedestrians. A good thing since the king forced his horse with an almost reckless abandoned. The echoes of the horse hooves on the stone streets bounced off the buildings and up the street as a warning to any and all to make way as these warriors were in haste.

At the door to the Hall of Light, Merran directed two warriors to each side of the walls of the building to cover any exits. The four remaining warriors accompanied the king and Merran through the main entrance without announcing themselves while Merran’s armor bearer tended to the horses.

Bursting into the Hall was a most irregular behavior even for a king. They found the scribes in the place of worship performing the Remembrance of Soil and Water. The two members of the Order had dedicated themselves to a watch of worship and prayer for their brother scribe and his mission. They were the only ones in the room built to accommodate two hundred worshippers. All of the oil lamps lining the walls were lit. The smooth white stone walls seemed to absorb the light then reflect it back. The effect was to give the room a light as bright as mid-day.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence at the sight of the king and his warriors storming with swords drawn. The scribes were in mid-ceremony, one about to pour water from a pitcher over the hands of the second as they recited the words of Medgag. They both stared to the intruders.

“I have come for my son,” growled Crom, breaking the silence.

“Your son is not here,” responded the scribe holding the pitcher of water in his hand. “Your presence in this honored hall with drawn weapons is an insult to God.”

Even though the king knew the scribe was right, he would not readily concede the point. “So is the kidnapping of an innocent child.”

“Did you not give up the child of your own free will?” The question was more of a statement and angered the king. Knowing the scribe was right intensified his anger.

Crom’s face was red with rage, “I was told my son’s life was in danger…”

“You knew our brother’s words spoke of truth,” replied the second scribe. “Long, now, you have permitted evil into the realm of the Seven Clans, for there is profit in doing so...”

“…By your own actions, you have brought on the danger,” finished the first scribe.

“Search everywhere,” the king commanded his warriors.

The king stood his ground in the place of worship facing the two scribes with his hands on his hips. He was doing his best to tower over them. Crom was accustomed to exerting his authority on King’s Mountains but members of the Order of Medgag answered to no king in the land of men. However, the king knew their disciplines of faith did not permit them to lie or deceive anyone. He was about to test those disciplines.

“Where has the young scribe gone with my son?” he asked with all the authority he could put into his words.

“We do not know, King Crom of the Seven Clans,” responded the scribe as formally as he could. He carefully set the water pitcher down.

Crom turned his attention to the second scribe.

The scribe slowly shook his head. “He told us he was going to an audience with the k…with you and that he would leave directly after he returned from your palace. He gave us instructions on what to prepare for him. Indeed, when he came back he had a child and he left immediately. We do not know by what road or direction he plans to travel. He did not tell us so we would not be obligated to tell anyone who might ask.”

Simon had told his brother scribes to tell all they knew quickly if the king had a change of heart and came looking for the child but to hold back the information about the hidden tunnel. His hope was that Crom would assume the scribes did not know anymore and would leave to pursue him by the most direct and likely route. Medgag wrote that, “kings always believe they must act in every situation resulting in rashness of action and shallowness of thought.” He was confident that Crom would assume he had taken the fastest, most direct roads back to the Mount of Adoration.

Merran and the other warriors were back. A shake of his head told the king what he already feared. His son was gone.

Without another word he stomped out of the place of worship with his warriors trailing behind. Outside of the Hall of Light he sent the warriors and Merran’s armor bearer off. “Check all of the gates. Find out which one he used to leave the city. I want warriors ready to track them down.”

Warriors rode off in different directions anxious to be the one to track down the scribe’s escape route. Merran and the king walked their horses back to the palace.

**

The Stoner spy kept in the shadows of the side street with his hood over his head. To anyone passing by, he appeared a beggar. Though he was out of sight of the king and his warrior aide, he was near enough to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men. He learned the man he assumed was a Gifted was wanted by the king yet had somehow eluded him. After the two nobles strolled away with their horses in tow Karr made his way back to the palace. He spent the rest of the night attempting to discover the man’s true identity and why the king was in such a hurry to find him. He suspected that he would have much to report to the wrinkled old man when next he summoned him.

Within a watch Karr knew the whole story of the disappearance of the baby prince. What details he did not learn from the gossip around the palace grounds he put together from the events outside of the Hall of Light. The infant prince had been spirited out of the royal suites and into the Hall by a young scribe dressed in the cloak of a Gifted. Somehow the scribe had managed to slip through the gates of the city and vanish into the night without any of the city’s guards seeing him or the baby.

The Stoner sat over a drink in his favorite tavern as first light threatened the city’s horizon thinking about the night’s events and what he should do with what he knew. It would surprise his elderly patron to know that the wealth he traded for the information brought by Karr was not the real motivation for the younger man’s espionage efforts. The reason Karr practiced the trade of a spy was because it afforded him freedom. Freedom allowed him to escape the streets of Stone City and the monotonous life of a common soldier. The iron bars gave him the freedom to go where he chose and do what he desired. The question was what he should do with the knowledge he now possessed? What could it do for him? At face value, there appeared little to further his own goals. He was amused when a messenger tracked him down with the expected summons.

Sitting a while longer in the tavern, he continued to give the subject of what to do with the information considerable thought before finally making his way to the house of the old man. It occurred to him that even after several passing of the moon he had no idea what the man was called. The one thing he did know was the man did not care for light. On every occasion he had met with his patron it was either at night on a dark street or, as in the case tonight, in a dimly lit room. A single oil lamp was the sole source of light in the small room. The old man sat on the only chair in the room placed on the opposite wall of the lamp. He always appeared feeble and gave the impression of being just barely on this side of Creation. Karr was sure the whole atmosphere surrounding the man was staged for his benefit but the point of the exercise escaped his comprehension.

“The infant prince is gone,” Karr said immediately upon entering the room. His delivery was purposeful. He wanted to gauge the other’s response. There was a brief flash of surprise and anger in the old man’s eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. The Stoner knew that the old man had his hand on the pulse of the city but his reaction to the news told Karr that, until now, he did not know why the palace was in an uproar. It was always a sense of satisfaction when he had information the old man did not possess.

“Where is he?” requested the old man calmly.

“Do you want the facts or my best guess?”

“I have learned, my young friend,” chuckled the old one, “that your guesses are usually better than the most solid facts of others.”

Ignoring the flattery the Stoner continued, “I believe the baby prince was taken by a scribe of the Order of Medgag. Apparently the king was persuaded to give the child into the Order’s protective custody but later changed his mind. Unfortunately for the king, the scribe and the infant have disappeared from the city. My speculation is that the scribe will attempt to take the prince to the Mount of Adoration and the safety of the Order’s Sanctuary.”

The old man shook his head in disappointment, “He will not get very far if the king wants to return the child to the mountain palace. The old king will alert his soldiers who guard Crom’s Point and they will capture them and bring them back to the palace.”

“Yes,” smiled Karr, “if the scribe is foolish enough to take the direct route and travel the Great Highway. Crom will assume such a course of action. It is what he would do and he tends to think that everyone should think as he does. But I would wager a good horse that this young scribe is not so dumb.”

“What do you mean,” the old man asked cocking his head slightly and looking at the Stoner out of the sides of his eyes.

Karr tried to act casual but inside he felt a pride in thinking ahead of the old man. There was a certain pleasure in reaching a conclusion before anyone else. “If I were the scribe I would go north to Rivers Run and cross at Hammer’s Bridge. It is no secret that Crom and King Cleaus of Rivers Run do not exactly see eye-to-eye these days. There is little chance that Cleaus would allow warriors from King’s Mountains to search his city at will. And once the scribe crosses the bridge he would be out of the reach of even Cleaus. The Rivers Run king would not dare send troops to the other side of the bridge and into the Asshur Mountains. The northern mountain people would not permit such an incursion.”

The old man laughed with glee. “You have done well, my young spy, very well indeed. I have doubled your usual payment,” he said tossing Karr a bag. “Keep your eyes and ears open for reaction by the king of the Seven Clans. Report to me any movement by the palace.”

Karr slid the bag under his belt as he left the room. Pride would keep him from looking into the bag until he put some distance between himself and the house. Though he was confident from the feel of the pouch that the old man had given him four of the finest quality iron bars of King’s Mountains. But he was far more interested in why the old man would want him to stay in the city instead of pursuing the scribe and his charge.

It was later in his rooms at a lodge located in the seedier section of the city that Karr paused to reflect on the night’s accomplishments. He was haunted by the puzzle he could not put together. He had been in the city the night the star appeared in the sky at the watch of the birth of the prince and had heard all the stories speculating on the child’s destiny as some great king. But what would the Order want with a baby? Everyone knew the Order had long since divorced themselves from the rest of the nations of men proclaiming that they would give their alliance to no human king. So, what would they want with a would-be child-king? And why did his benefactor not send him on the hunt for the child. The suspicious Stoner did not like questions he could not answer.

After brooding over the whole matter for a watch he made a decision. Hastily packing a few belongings and a bag iron bars, putting on his light armor, a sword and a dark cloak, he slipped out the window and into the night.