Chapter 1

Who

The city was in an uproar. Dozens of men from all over the city went to the tavern that night to exchange the news that was flowing through Atlay like a fire in the plains. To the barman it was good news and plenty of business, but to everyone else the rumors meant only trouble. As each man bought his drink and found a spot to sit and put his piece in, he learned more and more about the happenings of the city. Within the hour the pub was full to the bursting with men.

“They found him in his bed, poisoned most likely.”

“No! ’e was trampled by a horse. You know those beasts are so wild it’s a wonder this ’asn’t ’appened already.”

“Was it suicide?”

“Not if the ’orse killed ’im.”

Everyone argued about how the event took place, for they only knew that he had died that very same day. The men split into two groups, one thinking he was deliberately murdered, the other convinced he killed himself. Just as a fight was about to break out amongst them, a shout rang out above their arguments and prevented the brawl, shattering the tenseness as if it were a thin sheet of glass.

“Look at the lot of you, bickering like young pups! What’s the use of my bein’ here if you’re just going to fight anyway?” The man that had spoken had only just entered the tavern, followed by two teenage boys. He himself was young, not yet thirty, but he silenced the angering crowd with naught but his words. “Listen, I can see you have different ideas but you’ll get nowhere like this.” He made his way to the center table and sat down on top of it.

“Meyil, do you know of any truth to this?” An older gentleman nearest to the man held out his arm and gestured to the others. “We know only vague rumors.”

Meyil, as was his name, ran a hand over his short, red hair. “Watka, from the palace kitchen, saw it firsthand. He could hardly recount the images to me but from what I made out it seems that our king was murdered in the throne room not two hours ago.”

Complete silence followed his words as each man leaned in closer to hear the vivid details.

“He was engaged in a duel of some sort and had won the advantage it seemed. Apparently he had told all servants to keep clear of the entire palace but when two men exited, as Watka said, when neither had entered earlier, they knew something had happened.” Meyil grasped a mug of ale that was handed to him and took a long draught. “Two servants, the king’s bodyguards to be certain, quickly forced entry into the locked throne room and found two men, both dead, one of them being the king. They ran for help and when they returned with several others, the second corpse had disappeared. Watka believes whomever that man was he holds magic of some sort and that he wasn’t quite dead, that he transported himself away somehow. Miktal, you saw the room, did you not?”

One of the boys that had followed Meyil into the room nodded and stepped forward eagerly. “I was returning from the servants’ quarters when I saw the commotion—”

“And what might you be doing there, young master? A lady friend of yours?” The comment made many in the crowd laugh for it was a known fact that the boy had caught the affections of a young servant girl in the palace. “Meyil, you’d best keep an eye on that brother of yours. Soon you’ll have another at your home!”

Miktal, with his face red to match his hair, continued on without replying. “When I saw the commotion I hurried to investigate it. It was quite a sight, it was, with the king lying in his own blood. He was stabbed through the heart, but I saw no sword or knife that could have done the deed.”

“What about the second man, Mik? Tell us of him.”

“I saw no such man,” the boy replied, “but I saw where he had been. All across the floor there were crimson spots of blood. I followed them out the throne room, down the hall, and down the steps outside until they disappeared without a trace.”

“Well?” Meyil glanced at his companions in the tavern with appraising eyes. “What do you make of it?”

“You’d best go home, now, Redrik. With all this talk of murder flying around your mother will get at me if I keep you out here any longer.”

The boy nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Meyil, Miktal.” He turned down a side street and quickly hurried back to his house before the darkness settled in.

“Do you really think the murderer is still abroad in the city?” Miktal grinned but his question seemed honest.

Meyil laughed. “There may be a murder if Elles finds out that we went to the pub.”

“Brother, why does your wife despise it so much? It really isn’t all that bad.”

Meyil licked his lips and answered carefully. “Elles distrusts the men that go there often.”

“Perhaps I should not tell her, then, that you’ve been there nearly every night this week? Because I guess that would make you one that goes often.” Miktal braced himself for a whack to the head that he knew he would get for his teasing.

When Meyil saw that his younger brother had protected his head he grinned and gave him a boot to the rear that knocked him to the ground. “You wouldn’t dare!” He took off running down the road, knowing that if he didn’t reach the house before his brother caught him he would be tackled to the ground and a face off would surely begin. That would definitely put Elles in an uproar.

“Meyil, get back here!” Miktal got to his feet but didn’t start running right away. He could see the large stone house at the end of the street with lights shining through many of the huge windows, but to his surprise there was a light in the spare bedroom. “No one goes in the spare…” he muttered. “Meyil, wait!”

“You went to the pub tonight, didn’t you, Meyil?” Elles hardly looked up from her knitting needles.

“It’s good to see you, too, dear.” Meyil smiled and kissed his wife’s cheek. “I won’t lie to you, I did.” He furrowed his brow as Miktal sprang up the stairs in a hurry without even asking about dinner. “But don’t worry, love, I had good motives.”

“Which were?” Elles got to her feet and moved into the kitchen to serve dinner. “You know I don’t like it when you go to the tavern, Meyil.”

Meyil leaned against the wall and folded his arms contentedly before muttering, “The king was killed today.”

Elles paused and gaped at her husband. “Tell me you’re not serious,” she whispered.

Meyil shrugged and shook his head. “Miktal saw him, if you need proof.”

“Elles, who is he?” Miktal nearly jumped down the stairs and he slid on the rug in his haste to get to the kitchen.

“He’s a ghost man!” A young, red-haired girl not over the age of four grabbed onto Miktal’s leg and giggled. “He was dead but now he’s not dead.”

“Sara, not now, darling.” Elles shooed the girl away and glanced at Meyil who had raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that, Meyil.” She returned to the stove as if nothing had happened.

Miktal rolled his eyes and shoved his brother out of the way to get closer to Elles. “Elles,” he repeated. “Who is he? I saw him in the spare room.” He put his hands on his hips.

Meyil narrowed his eyes and stood at Miktal’s side, copying the boy’s impatient posture. “There is a man in the bedroom and you get angry with me for going to a pub to hear news?”

“Zak found him half-dead on the beach, what was I supposed to do?” The woman pulled the pot of soup from the stove and set it on the large table in the next room. “We’ll turn him out as soon as he’s well.”

Meyil sighed and went to the staircase. “Zak!” he called loudly. He let a little anger filter into his voice so his son would be sure to listen to him.

“Yes, Papa?” The boy poked his head over the balcony of the upper level.

“Your mother tells me you found a man on the beach.”

“Yes, Papa. He’s up here now, if you care to see him.”

“No, I do not care to see him. I just want you to tell me why you convinced your mother to bring him here.”

Zak shook his head. “I didn’t. It was her idea.”

“Was it now?” Meyil raised an eyebrow and turned back to his wife, who smiled a little. “I want to see this man.”

Miktal followed his brother up the stairs and to the back of the upper story into the spare bedroom to get another look at the man. “It’s amazing that he lives at all.”

“Why do you say that?” Meyil entered the room and stopped by the bed. “Oh.”

The man lying on the mattress was almost completely covered by bandages and many of them had collected so much blood they had almost been soaked all the way through. It looked like Elles had washed much dirt and grime from his young face but it was twisted in pain despite the man being unconscious. His arms and torso had the worst of the wounds, as there wasn’t an inch of skin there that wasn’t obscured by bandages.

Meyil lifted one of the bandages on the man’s shoulder but quickly covered it again to stop the fresh flow of blood. “He needs intense medical attention,” he muttered to Miktal. “Elles might have done a lot but he may not survive the night. Mik, take the horse and fetch Loreth. Make all haste, brother.”

“Yes, Meyil.”

Meyil hurried down the stairs to wash his hands and speak to Elles. He passed Sara on the way, who whispered,

“He’s afraid, Papa.” The little redheaded child glanced into the spare bedroom timidly, as if expecting the wounded man to sit up and begin talking.

“What do you mean?” Meyil knelt in front of Sara and furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you know he is afraid?”

Sara blinked and grinned, all fear gone. “He told me.”

Meyil smiled. “Will you watch over him for me while I talk to Mama?”

“Yes, Papa!”

“What on earth happened to him, Meyil? I’ve heard talk of the king’s murderer, but…”

“Zak found him on the beach, Loreth. Can you help him?”

The doctor sighed and stepped into a separate room, away from Zak and Elles. “He may not be able to live without the blood he has lost. You’re sure you don’t know who did this to him?”

“We don’t even know who he is, Loreth. Have you ever seen him before?”

“I can’t say that I have. If you found him on the beach then he may have been on a ship during that storm last week…”

“No one survives a week on the ocean after a storm like that, Loreth, you know that.”

“Not as well as you do.” Loreth gave Meyil a look that clearly stated his suspicions that he was involved and Meyil narrowed his eyes in reply.

About ready to contradict the physician’s thoughts, Meyil was distracted by his daughter’s high voice.

“Papa!”

Meyil stepped out of the room. “What, Sara?”

The girl came out of the spare room looking very confused. “He told me where his lay if…” she said quietly. “I don’t know what he means.”

“If what?”

“That’s all he said, Papa.”

“He spoke to you?” Loreth hurried into the room, hoping that the man was indeed conscious.

“Papa, I don’t think he is very happy.” Sara stuck out her lower lip. “I think he needs a hug!”

“No, Sara, no hugs. Miktal, will you take her into her bed? Where is Elles?”

Mik lifted the little girl into his arms. “Downstairs,” he replied. “She’s been in the kitchen all night.”

Meyil slowly made his way down the stairs. It was well past midnight and he could feel exhaustion setting in, not only in him but in his wife as well. Elles was asleep in a chair by the wash bin with a half-dried bowl on her lap. She always washed things when she was worried or concerned and that night she had washed nearly every dish in the large house. “Elles, my darling, you need to go to bed.” Meyil gently kissed his wife’s forehead and pushed her dark brown hair out of her face. “You’ve washed all there is to wash and more.”

“Has he changed?” Elles murmured as she got to her feet. “Is he any better?”

Meyil led her to their master bedroom on the first floor and kissed her goodnight. “Not yet, love, but I will wait through the night to make sure he survives this.”

“Thank you, Meyil.”

As soon as his wife had closed the bedroom door, Meyil rubbed the back of his sore neck and said to himself, “With all the attention that could ever be given him in the world I doubt he could survive, so how will he here in Atlay? Only magic could help him, I’d wager.”

Miktal met his brother at the bottom of the stairs and muttered, “Loreth says he is far from improving. He just discovered that one wound has opened again and is bleeding anew. He wants to know if you have any better supplies.”

Meyil sighed. “I have none. We used everything on our last voyage. What does he need?”

“I’m not sure. Would you like me to run down the street and obtain more medicines?” Mik followed Meyil up the stairs again, eager to do anything possible for the stranger.

“No. We do not need to trouble anyone this late into the night.”

The clock in the hall struck twice.

“Papa, will he die?”

Meyil turned around and found Zak staring into the room that the man was in. “He will be fine, Zak. Go back to your room and sleep.”

The boy obliged and trudged down the hallway until he reached his bedroom and disappeared inside.

“Meyil, there is nothing else we can do tonight.” Loreth rubbed his thin black beard and sighed as he left the spare room. “Contact me in the morning if anything has changed.”

“How can I pay you for keeping you away from your family so late?” Meyil asked, walking his friend to the door. “This isn’t the first you’ve paid us a visit in the dead hours.”

“This is my job, friend. Besides, the only reason I have the business I do is through your kindness. I am only beginning to repay you.” Loreth grasped Meyil’s hand then stepped out into the dark.

“Do we stay up and watch him?” Miktal asked softly at the foot of the stairs. “I can do it all night, if you wish.”

Meyil shook his orange-haired head. “No, Mik. I need your strength tomorrow for when the shipment comes in because the crew sailed south to Brine just two days ago. I need you and Red to work hard, for they won’t be back in time to unload.” He gestured for his brother to go to bed. “If he doesn’t survive the night then there is nothing we could have done to help him.

“Hey, Mik!”

Miktal turned around and found Redrik sprinting up the ramp up to the ship’s deck. “You’re late, Red,” he teased with a grin.

“Actually I stopped to talk to Loreth this morning.” He reached down and lifted a huge barrel of oil. “He said you had a stranger in your house.”

Mik helped the boy carry the heavy barrel and place it in the cart waiting at the end of the dock before replying. “What has that doctor been telling people?” he asked breathlessly.

“Well, is it true?” Redrik brushed his hands off on his pants and turned back to the ship to find Meyil staring at him. He swallowed and bowed his head a little. “I’m sorry for my tardiness,” he muttered to the man.

“You’re forgiven.” Meyil folded his arms and smiled. “Red, I’m not paying you to stand here. Continue on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meyil followed his brother and the other boy in order to continue speaking. “We do, in fact, have a man in our house, Redrik. What did Loreth say about him?”

Redrik turned his head. “He told me he was on his way to check on him again and that he expected to find him dead. Is he?”

Miktal laughed. “Of course not. I found him this morning standing at the window as if nothing had happened to him yesterday. Apparently his wounds weren’t as bad as they looked.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“I called to him softly but he must have not heard me. I would have tried again but Meyil shouted me to hurry.” Mik helped his older brother lift a box and transport it down the ramp. “You could come meet him when we’re done, if you want!” he called back.

Redrik laughed and shook his head, not one for adventures. “No thank you,” he muttered to himself.

“Elles, we’re home.” Meyil dropped his bag by the front door in order to search for his wife. “Elles?”

“I’m in the parlor, Meyil.”

“We had a good shipment today. I’ll be able to get at least eight thousand pieces of silver if the markets are good tomorrow.” Meyil sat on the couch next to Elles and kissed her forehead.

“That is wonderful!” Elles grinned.

“What news of our friend upstairs, love?”

Meyil’s wife shrugged. “He moved only to find a chair so he would not have to stand any longer. Zak helped him to move it for he could hardly wrap his fingers around the wood.” She recounted how Zak had peered into the room to see the man silently struggling to move the chair.

“Has he spoken?”

“Not at all.”

Meyil stretched his legs out in the warmth of the fire and sighed with content. “Perhaps another night will give him strength enough.”

Miktal passed his brother and Elles and went straight up the stairs to relax on his bed. He paused, however, to glance at the man who still sat in front of the window though it was dark outside. He raised an eyebrow then continued onward when he saw no movement.

“Have I been here long?”

Mik stopped. Had the man just spoken? He poked his head into the room and waited.

“Have I been here long?” the man repeated softly.

“Only a day and a night,” Mik replied.

“How did I get here?”

Miktal warily stepped into the room because the man’s voice was so quiet he could hardly hear him. “My nephew found you on the beach.” He remained several feet away from the stranger’s chair in case something happened, though he couldn’t imagine what the man could do if he tried.

“The beach?” The man slowly lifted his hand to his head.

“Yes. Are you feeling alright?”

“Will you help me stand?”

Mik shrugged and walked further into the room to aid him. “How did you get yourself up the first time?”

“Pure will.” As soon as the man was on his feet his turned to look at Miktal. “I give you my thanks.” He grinned a little. “What is your name?”

“Miktal, but you can call me Mik, as well, if my whole name causes you trouble.”

The man chuckled but quickly stopped after finding that it made him hurt more. “I noticed we are located on the second level. Could you help me get down the stairs?” His voice was gruff and hoarse, revealing his pain.

Mik nodded but inquired, “Why do you wish to go downstairs? It might be very difficult.”

“Trust me. After what I’ve survived through I can handle a flight of stairs.”

“I’ve been curious; who, or what, did this to you?” Mik held onto the banister to support the man’s weight.

The man was silent as he worked on taking slow, concentrated steps. At the bottom of the staircase he whispered, “I don’t remember…”

“At all?” Mik stopped and narrowed his eyes. Either the man told the truth or he didn’t wish to make it known. His bet was for the latter explanation.

“If you asked my name I couldn’t tell it to you,” the man said sadly. “All morning I’ve tried to find memories and facts but my mind is dark.”

“Meyil!” Mik called out. “Come out here!”

“Miktal, what have you done now? Oh.” The redheaded man licked his lips as he paused in front of his brother and the wounded man. “Hello.”

The man pulled his arm away from Miktal’s shoulder and held out his bandaged hand. “I must thank you for your kindness.”

Meyil took the man’s hand a grasped it lightly, amazed at the strength he had even when hurt as he was. “It is a pleasure. Would you like to sit down? You look very pale.”

The stranger smiled. “With the blood I’ve lost I’m bound to be pale.”

Meyil raised his eyebrows and grinned. “There’s truth in that,” he agreed. “Are you hungry?”

“Not a bit…”

“Not at all?” Elles came out of the parlor with a smile on her round face. “I’ve got hot ham soup in the kitchen.”

“Thank you, but no.” The man bowed his head slightly then went back up the stairs without help.

As soon as the stranger was up the stairs, Mik said, “He claims to remember nothing.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Meyil replied, “considering what happened to him.” Both brothers gave each other looks of suspicion but didn’t say anything out loud; they would have another time to talk.

“He needs food if he is to be strong enough,” Elles said quietly. “I’ll try to get him to eat something in the morning.”

“Where are the children?”

“They are already asleep.” Elles returned to the fire in the parlor. “Will you check on Sara for me?”

“I would love to, Elles.” Meyil and Miktal both went up to the girl’s room.

Surprisingly, the little red head was wide awake. “Papa! He talked!” Sara jumped out of her bed excitedly. “He talked to me today!”

“And what did he say to you, Mouse?” Miktal used the girl’s favorite nickname as he picked her up.

“I don’t know,” Sara replied. She played with Mik’s red hair. “He kept talking about a doormat and stuff. It was boring.”

“Go to sleep, child,” Meyil whispered. He took his daughter from Miktal’s arms and put her back in the bed. “We’re going to market tomorrow.”

“Market?” Instead of lying down to sleep Sara sat up with excitement. “Can we go see the horses?”

“Perhaps, but only if you sleep.” Meyil smiled and kissed the child’s forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mouse.”

“Okay!”

Mik laughed. “Goodnight, Sara.”

“Zak, don’t stare.”

The boy smiled and looked down at his breakfast but his gaze quickly returned to the stranger at the opposite end of the table. He couldn’t help but watch as the man voraciously shoveled eggs and bacon into his mouth. Over the night he had changed dramatically for the better. Instead of his face being twisted in pain, it was smooth, with his forehead partly obscured by a messy crop of dark hair. With his face clean he looked considerably younger, probably no older than twenty.

“Is there a name we can call you by?” Elles asked quietly.

The man looked up and shrugged. “I don’t know of anything. Think of one for me.”

Meyil rubbed his chin and glanced at his wife, who shrugged to tell him that she didn’t have an answer. “Uh… What about Patry? That was my father’s name.”

Miktal groaned and threw a piece of ham into his brother’s face. “Don’t remind me about Dad,” he growled, making Meyil laugh.

“Just because I was his favorite,” he retorted, “you don’t have to get angry every time I mention him.” He looked at the man and sighed thoughtfully. “We won’t call you Patry, then. It’s not a good name, anyway.”

“Lokis!” Zak declared proudly, but his mother patted him on the arm tenderly and muttered, “Zak, dear, you cannot give him the name of your friend. It would be too confusing if they.”

“Kare?” Meyil grimaced at his own attempt at a name and held up his hand just in time to avoid being hit by another piece of ham thrown by Miktal. “Treak… Darak…” He took a few seconds to think of more, and the family grew quiet in anticipation. “I’ve got nothing,” Meyil finally muttered with an outburst of air.

There was silence at the table until Miktal suggested, “Damian.”

The stranger smiled. “I like it. Where is it from?”

“Damian was a king that lived over two hundred years ago,” Meyil explained quietly. “He was considered to be the greatest king that ever lived because he lived for the people, all of the people, and nor for himself. Stories say that he even refused to live in extravagance; instead, he made his abode in simple lodgings to further equalize the social system.”

“How inspiring,” the young man muttered with a grin. “What more can you tell me about him?”

Miktal took over for his brother and continued the story. “Damian had a brother, Radim, who led the Medegar army. Radim was a good leader, strong and courageous, but he lacked the skills his elder brother possessed to empower other to be like him until the day another island attacked out own.”

“Stories also say,” Meyil cut in, “that Radim had learned of the enemy’s plan weeks in advance so he was ready for them when their ships arrived on the beach. What he hadn’t counted on, however, was the sheer size of the other island’s army. Though he and his men fought as one like they never had before, he was outnumbered five to one and not even an hour into the battle, Radim surrendered to discover the motive behind the attack. He learned that they were there to take the king, Damian, and execute him. When the summons was taken to Damian, he quietly rode down to the battlefield to give himself up and save his people.”

Miktal held up his hand to stop Meyil from continuing and paused, letting the drama of the story sink into his family and the stranger. “Radim did everything he could to save Damian’s life, even offering his own life in exchange for the king’s. His pleas went unanswered and he watched his brother die that day.” He waited for a reaction from those sitting around the table.

The stranger blinked. “So…you’ve given me the name of a man that died?”

Meyil chuckled. “Certainly not. After the enemy ships had disappeared and the island had finished mourning for their king, they honored Radim more than they had ever honored a general before. Radim, however, never enjoyed the praise and instead tried to direct it to his dead brother. The people tried to crown Radim but he refused, giving the throne to Damian’s son. Though he wasn’t king himself, he acted like a father to his nephew and gave him guidance and advice whenever it was needed. As the years passed, the king and his uncle worked side by side and eventually created a kingdom even greater than that of Damian’s, but still Radim refused to receive any credit.”

“But it Damian was dead,” the man cut in, brandishing his fork, “why do you keep telling me the story? I don’t like the name, Radim, if you’re trying to persuade me to go for that one.”

“No one likes the name,” Meyil agreed with a smile. “You seem to be under the wrong impression, my young fiend.”

“Damian wasn’t dead,” said Miktal.

“On his death bed,” interrupted the younger brother, “Radim and his nephew unleashed a secret that had been kept since the great battle; Radim was Damian. Both brothers knew that when the other islanders arrived, Radim would not be able to control the soldiers with any amount of organization. Damian offered to take his place during the battle so they could be more successful under his leadership. Radim agreed and temporarily became king while Damian led the army, but when Radim sacrificed himself while pretending to be king, Damian felt that he shouldn’t let his brother have died in vain and continued the charade.”

“His son knew that he was alive but they made a pact with each other never to tell until Damian was dying. It was a tribute to Radim, they said, but the younger had hardly done anything at all to deserve it. The really great man was Damian, who, even in death—though he wasn’t actually dead—made his people happy.” Meyil finished the story then say back in his chair, grinning at Miktal. Then Elles spoke.

“Meyil, was that really necessary? That story had absolutely no point to it.”

“well, he asked where the name—”

“You just made that up!”

“Hey!” Meyil pointed a finger at his wife. “Damian was a king, once.”

“And that was a great story!” Miktal complained. “You try making one up like that with your brother—if only you had one—and see how far you get without messing up the facts.”

Elles groaned and rubbed her temples. “Why do I put up with the two of you? Honestly, the things I hear coming out of your mouths—”

“You can’t deny that it was a good—”

“Sometimes I just want to—”

“Elles, love, be reasonable. We were only trying to—”

“You just have to open your mouth every time someone—”

“I like the name,” the stranger said suddenly, glancing from Elles to Meyil to Miktal. “I think I want to be Damian, even if the story wasn’t all that exciting.”

“Oh, come one!” Miktal groaned, throwing his arms up in the air. “That has got to be the best thing I’ve ever created!”

Damian chuckled slightly, though he didn’t laugh completely for fear of hurting himself. “I’m sorry, Meyil, but I would have to agree with your wife. But I like the name.”

“Then you shall be Damian,” proclaimed Elles before she stood to fill the man’s plate with food.

“Damian!” Sara sang. “Damian!”

Meyil smiled. “I see you’re hungry this morning, Damian. I am glad.”

“I feel terrible preying upon you like this,” Damian muttered. He was hunched over in his seat and shivering slightly, still unable to wear anything over the bandages on his chest and torso.

“Oh, it is no trouble at all.” Elles got to her feet. “Sara, darling, go upstairs and get dressed.”

“Okay, Mama!” The girl grinned and ran over to Damian before going up the stairs. She hugged his leg then hurried off to do as she was told.

“I’m sorry,” Meyil apologized. “My daughter is afraid of nothing and will do as she pleases without thought.”

“No…” Damian’s bright green eyes were surprised. “I just didn’t expect such kindness. How old is she?”

“Not yet five,” Elles replied. She began to clear the table.

Damian stood. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” Elles smiled. “You’ve only just begun to heal.”

“I insist.” The man took the dishes from the woman’s arms and brought them to the washbasin with what seemed like little effort. “It is the least I could do to repay your kindness.”

Meyil, too, got up from the table, rubbing his slightly protruding belly. “That was wonderful, love. Miktal, Zak, I want you to ready the horses. We have a large load today and we’ll need Beast.”

“Beast?” Zak raised his eyebrows. “But, Papa, he hasn’t let us come near him for months.”

“He is the only one strong enough,” Miktal replied, though he, too, was reluctant to use the horse in question. “Brother, Zak and I can’t handle him alone. I’d have to go get Red to help.”

“How big is he?” Damian had overheard the conversation and seemed intrigued.

Miktal raised an eyebrow. “His shoulders stand at my head.” That was saying something, considering that Miktal was one of the tallest in the port. He hadn’t received the short, stocky build his brother had gotten, but was lanky and surprisingly skinny.

“I can help you.”

The red head was skeptical. “I thought you had no strength.”

Damian shrugged. “I just ate my first real meal in weeks. Give me a few moments and I can tackle anything.”

Miktal sighed. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you to try. Follow me.”

“We keep Beast at the end so he doesn’t disturb the other horses.” Miktal and Zak led Damian down the line of fantastic horses in their stable.

“You have many magnificent animals,” Damian commented.

“We live well,” Miktal replied. “Not as well as the nobles though. They maintain the high status that we strive for.”

“Here is Beast,” Zak muttered. He remained several feet away from the seemingly peaceful horse, staring up at the animal with wide blue eyes.

“Grab some rope and the harness, Zak,” said Miktal. “We will try to get a hold on him. Come, Damian, and meet Beast.”

Damian smiled and stepped up to the horse. “He is rather large.” He watched as Miktal undid the latch to the stall.

As soon as the latch clicked the black horse sprung up on its hind legs and reared, threatening Miktal to get away. The red-haired boy ignored the animal’s attempts and hurried to the back of the horse. He grabbed a string of rope and threw it around Beast’s neck; however, the horse tossed his head and easily snapped the rope in two.

“Damian, try to calm him or something so I can put the harness on him.” Miktal had taken the leather ropes from his nephew and was sneaking to the back of the horse again.

Damian reached his arms up and managed to grasp the bridle of the horse. It was quickly yanked from his weak hands. He narrowed his eyes and tried again, and this time he was able to keep his grip. He leaned his head forward and began to whisper to the horse in a gentle manner, hoping that his soft voice would let the creature know he was a friend.

Miktal had almost gotten the harness in place but suddenly Beast kicked backward and ripped his head away from Damian’s grip. Miktal was thrown to the side of the stall and Damian was knocked to the ground. Beast moved into the corner of the stall and neighed, as if laughing at them for even trying.

“Are you alright, Damian?” Miktal crawled over to where Damian lay. He immediately felt guilty for letting the man even close to Beast when he saw the agony on his face.

Damian coughed then held his breath, fighting the pain in his shoulders. He didn’t reply to the boy’s question. Instead he got to his feet with a glare. “Give me that harness!”

In less than a minute and without the help of either Miktal or Zak, Damian had the harness around Beast’s body and he was sitting on his back, holding him at bay. “He’s ready,” Damian muttered weakly. He slowly lowered himself down to the ground but when he landed he was unable to hold himself up and he collapsed.

Miktal caught the man before he fell to the floor. “Fetch Loreth!” he shouted to Zak.

“What on earth did you put this man through, Meyil?” Loreth felt Damian’s pulse.

“We did nothing to him. He offered to help us with Beast and—”

“Don’t tell me you let him get near that vicious creature.” The physician’s reproachful gaze made Meyil remember why he’d never really like the doctor.

“It didn’t feel right to stop him,” Meyil said softly, though there was an icy edge in his voice.

“He did manage to harness him alright,” Miktal put in.

“You allowed him to overexert himself.” Loreth sighed and checked the man’s bandages again. “Here this man has been stabbed twice and had his arms slashed by a sword, yet you use him to do your work?”

“He did it himself, Loreth,” Meyil growled. “I’ll watch over him while Mik goes to the market. You can leave now.” He held out his arm, suggesting that the doctor was no longer welcome. As soon as Loreth was out the door Meyil sighed and sat down. Elles and the children were already at the market so he did not have to worry about making sure they got there. “Miktal, are you thinking the same as I about this stranger?” He looked up at his younger brother with a grim smile.

Miktal grinned proudly. “Damian was in the palace the other day. He was the second man.” He looked over at the unconscious man and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fully believe that he has lost his memory. There are times when I think he remembers everything.”

“I agree. It may be difficult to get him to admit that he was in the throne room when the king died but we must try. Damian may be our hope of finding out what really happened to our king.”

“I’ll take the shipment to the market for you, brother.” Miktal watched a shadow pass over Damian’s face then disappear.

“Make sure you get the highest price for that oil. Don’t let any swindlers get the best of you.” Meyil stared at his brother to make sure he got the message. The boy often stopped listening after a few minutes and when he wasn’t looking in the right direction it was hard to tell whether he heard what was said or not.

“Meyil, have you ever seen anyone get the best of me?” Miktal grinned arrogantly.

“I’ve gotten the best of you,” the redheaded man answered with a smirk.

“Only because I let you do it so you wouldn’t feel bad.”

“Sure…”