A Thief’s Tale

A Short Story by Vikki

Disclaimer:  Wait a minute … I own these characters!  yay! ^^x

Flame Policy:  Don’t bother.

*   *   *

                My name is Kellan.  I’m thirteen cycles old, blue-eyed, brown-haired, and pretty small for my age.  I live in Kalgrath, which is the capital city of Valen.  As far as I know, I’ve lived here all my life.  It’s a good place to live; it’s loaded with aristocrats, merchants, and other plump persons just begging to be relieved of their more extraneous items.  You see, I’m a petty thief.

                I really hate that term.  ‘Petty’ thief?  It’d be far more accurate to say ‘careful’ thief.  It’s those big shots that steal personal items and things that’ll be missed that get caught.  People like me, who only steal what the aristocrats already have too much of in the first place, like linens, silks, and pocket change, are almost immune to prosecution.  But I’m jumping ahead of myself.

                I’m dictating this story from a room in the Royal Palace of Kalgrath, where I’m reclining on a plush bed with silk sheets and two hundred or so extra pillows.  The scribe is sitting at my feet.  There’s even a page pestering me, trying to get me to think of some minor task for him to do.  How did I get here, you ask?  Well, that’s what this story is about.  Sort of.  Just keep reading.  It’s a good story, I promise, complete with damsels in distress, a knight or two, and even an evil wizard.  I’d think it was a fairy tale if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes.  So sit back and enjoy!  This story is worth the two-pence you paid for it.

*   *   *

                It all began a few days ago, during the Midsummer Festival – specifically, the third day thereof.  It was the middle of the morning, and the midday heat was just beginning to make itself known.  The day promised to be scorching, as summer days often are in Kalgrath.  Anticipating the gross weather of the afternoon, the patrons of the festival were starting on their shopping early; at about the eleventh candle, the crowds around the stands were at their thickest.  There would be no bigger crowds until that evening, when the big shows, performed by professional guilds, would begin.  Until then, the small-time acrobats and play-acts dominated the entertainment, and the merchant stands, packed with sweets, sticky buns, tooled leather, child’s toys, ale, wine, cheap rings, and a myriad of other trinkets and tasties, did most of their business.

                I admit that I love the Festival.  It helps people to forget about the summer heat – and their pocketbooks.  Midmorning during the Midsummer Festival is my prime opportunity for lifting because security is lax and the patrons are focused on the acrobats, tricksters, and merchant stands rather than on their purses.  Another plus is that it’s daytime.  Nearly nobody thinks of daytime robbery, thanks to the crude robbers who have no subtlety whatsoever.  The light makes people feel more secure, and I love people who feel secure.  It’s far easier to rob them.

                Before we continue, I should probably clarify something.  You, the reader, are probably pretty mad at me right now.  “How can you rob people in good conscience?” you’re asking.  The answer is, I don’t – not really.  That’s why I keep almost nothing of what I steal.

Have you ever heard of Robin Hood?  He stole from the rich and gave to the poor.  I’m not saying I’m anything like him, because my motives aren’t half so pure.  I’m a thief because it puts food on my table and buys me a room in a decent boarding house.  But what I don’t need, I give away.  And I never rob people who’d really miss the stuff I take.  I steal from only the richest people in Kalgrath, and even then I try to pick out people who’re generally a real pain in the – you know.

                For the occasion I had decked myself out in my best clothing, which was carefully mended breeches, hard-soled boots that I had stolen from a well-to-do family, a plain linen shirt, and a good, plain green jacket.  The jacket was the finishing touch on my disguise.  It made me look as if I was a merchant’s son – provided nobody looked too carefully.  It was the perfect outfit for mingling with the middle-class merchants and the highborn crowd they accommodated. 

It had been a good morning’s work.  I’d successfully lifted two full purses and several silk handkerchiefs, all of which were carefully hidden in my favorite alleyway, not far from the courtyard where most of the Festival activity took place.  I was making off with another handkerchief (it was actually a very nice shade of purple, and I was considering keeping it) when I was bumped.

                Being bumped is quite normal at festivals, and if I weren’t a thief I probably would have thought nothing of it.  But I am a thief, and bumping is one of the most effective ways to go about lifting.  So, I made a grab at the little boy who had crashed into me even as he pulled away with a mumbled apology and made as if to run off.

                I got a good hold on his arm; he glared balefully up at me through dark, shaggy bangs.  He wasn’t dressed too well.  He looked surly.  Worst of all, my beautiful, recently purloined handkerchief was in his hands.

                “What’ve y’ got there, boy?” I asked as calmly as I could.

                “Who’re y’ calling boy?” the kid snapped back.  “It’s just a ‘kerchief.  I’m takin’t to Mamma.”

                I reached for the handkerchief, a little nervous now.  “That’s my ‘kerchief.”

                “’S not,” the boy held the handkerchief away from himself, out of my reach, and in plain sight.

I began to sweat.  If the noble I’d stolen it from was beginning to miss it, a constable could descend upon us any minute now, and the embroidery still on the handkerchief would be a dead giveaway.  “Yes ‘t is,” I whispered fiercely.  “Y’ stole ’t and y’ know ’t!  Now I don’ want t’ get you in trouble with the constable, so just give’t back and I won’t report you.”

It was a poor bluff.  The boy yanked his arm free of my grip, crying “No!” and tore off down the street.  I gave chase.

Normally, I would have just let the kid run off.  If he got caught, the noble I’d robbed would never have known that kid from me, and the boy would have taken the blame for the robbery.  In fact, I’m not sure why I gave chase even now.  Call it divine intervention.  Whatever it was, chasing that kid was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.

The boy was a lot smaller and thinner than me (and I’m pretty thin).  He disappeared into the crowd so fast I almost lost him.  Nonetheless, I chased him through the crowds and into the alley next to the brewery.  The boy flew around the corner of the brewery just as I stepped into the alley.  I followed him around the corner –

And slammed into the side of a wooden cart.

The edge of the cart came up to the middle of my stomach.  I struck it squarely with my torso, bashing my knees into the rough wooden side slats, knocking the wind out of my lungs, and somersaulting myself into the straw inside the cart.  I rolled onto my side and curled up into a ball, trying to catch my breath, my lungs hurting terribly.  I was vaguely aware of the little boy snickering at me over my head before making a rude gesture and running away.

That little brat set me up, I thought angrily as my vision cleared and my breath came easier.  I should have seen it coming, I realized on reflection.  He was a better thief than I thought; his plan was complete with a pre-arranged escape route.  I’d never find him now.  Slowly I rolled onto my back, raised myself on my elbows, and took stock of my surroundings.

The cart was plain but wide, with small wheels.  It was obviously a merchant’s cart – the sort that the owner would pull behind themselves through the streets, calling to passerby.  The only thing apparently in the cart was straw and a bundle wrapped in loose-woven linen.

It was strange to me that such a bundle would be deserted in an alleyway, left as easy prey for any thief like myself.  I rolled over onto my stomach and crawled through the straw to the bundle’s side, surreptitiously glancing from side to side and listening carefully for any hidden guards.  However, the alley was entirely deserted.  I frowned down at the bundle.

It moved.

I barely stifled a cry and threw myself backwards, scrambling through the hay to press myself against the one of the sides of the wooden cart.  I stared at the bundle as it continued to shift, wriggling.  A muffled, broken moaning came from it.

It took me a moment to realize that the moaning was a human sound, so shocked I was by the linen package suddenly coming to life before my eyes.  As soon as I relaxed enough to realize that it was a human moaning, it dawned on me that there was someone in the linen wrappings, and whoever it was, they were probably being kidnapped (as that was the only reason I knew of for wrapping people in cloth and hiding them in deserted alleyways).  Which meant that whoever was doing the kidnapping probably wasn’t very far from the alley.  From there it wasn’t hard to guess that the kidnappers were either many weak characters or one very strong character, and both were more than one scrawny thief could handle.  My immediate instinct, thus, was to get out of that wooden cart as fast as I could, go to my alley, retrieve my loot, and call it a day.  The last thing I needed was trouble with ‘big-timers’.  Not only could they wipe me off the face of the earth, it invited recognition, which is always a bad thing for a lifter.

Again, I went against my better instincts.  This time, though, there was a better reason.  I may have nearly no morals, but what few morals I have forbade me from leaving this living bundle to the mercies of its captors.  I crawled back to the captive’s side, freeing my eating knife from my belt and cutting a rip in the linen.  The linen made a tearing sound too loud for my comfort, and the captive inside the linen began to moan and wriggle more fiercely.

“Shh, stop wriggling,” I whispered, cutting the linen as quickly as I could.  I was not eager to stay in that alley very long and find out just what sort of people the kidnappers were.  “I’m not going t’ hurt you.  I’m going t’ get you out o’ there.  Just relax.”

To my relief, the captive quieted.  I kept sawing away at the linen, making quick work of it.  In a matter of minutes, the linen was stripped away and I was left with only the captive, giving me my first good look at the person’s face.

I was faced with a very pretty human girl.  She had dark brown eyes and long hair that hung in messy dark curls around her pale face.  I imagined that in other circumstances, the curls would not have been so messy.  She was wearing tan breeches and a boy’s linen shirt, not unlike my own.  She had been gagged and bound hand and foot, as well.  Reminding myself of the danger at hand, I carefully slashed open the gag and held a finger to my lips to tell the girl to be quiet.  Then I began to saw at the bindings on her feet.

Unfortunately, despite my warning, the girl began to whisper to me.  “Thank you so very much.  You have my eternal gratitude,” she said in an elegant, rich, aristocratic voice.  “I have been kidnapped, and I need to get away from this place as fast as possible.  My captors are returning soon.”

“I guessed,” I whispered back to her.  I noticed immediately that her voice was incongruous with her clothing, but as it wasn’t important, I put it aside.  “Now be quiet, unless y’ want t’ get caught again.  Y’got an eating knife?”

“A what?” she sounded confused.

“Never mind,” I gritted back, sawing through the last of the ropes around her ankles.  Her soft-soled boots were well tooled and completely inappropriate for the cobblestone roads.  I started on the bindings on her wrists.  “Just be quiet.  And listen for anyone approachin’.”

“All right,” she nodded, and fell silent.  I strained my ears for any sign of approach as I cut the ropes.  There were none.

Finally, the last rope broke.  I made a triumphant gesture and motioned for the girl to be silent still.  “Follow me, I’ll get y’ someplace safe,” I told her in a whisper, leaping over the side of the cart.  The girl hesitated on the edge of the cart.  I became impatient and lifted her out.  She was incredibly light.

Now before you get to thinking that this girl I’ve saved is really prissy and a fool, let me tell you she’s really smart, and she’s not prissy at all.  She only ever hesitates because she’s not sure how to do something, but she’s always willing to try something new.  Her main flaw is that she’s really naïve – but I’m jumping ahead of myself again.

We crept down the alleyway, hugging the wall, and sneaking away from the cart as fast as we could.  I was very grateful that there had been no rain over the past few days – we didn’t have to watch out for puddles.  Nonetheless, the girl copied me exactly, placing her feet exactly where I put mine.  I was beginning to regret wearing my hard soles; every step I took was loud in my ears.

Two blocks away from the cart, I had finally decided that we were safe when I literally bumped into him – ‘him’ being a burly, fierce, dangerous looking man who glared down his nose at me as I bounced off his bricklike stomach.  I stumbled backwards, nearly falling into the girl before regaining my balance and staring up, up, up to look into deadly black eyes. He was well dressed – actually, he might have been a Greater Lord, judging by his choice of clothing.  He crossed his arms and simply looked at me.

I blinked and swallowed hard.  An apology for running into him was on the tip of my tongue (he looked as if he was ready to call a constable on me for just bumping against him) when the girl suddenly squeaked in a strangled voice, “That’s him!”

I knew right away that she meant this man was the kidnapper.  The man’s gaze shifted briefly to the girl then fixed on me again.  I had the sinking feeling that he was memorizing my face to report to somebody, although my more immediate concern was that he was going to try and crush me into a puddle on the ground with his powerful arms.  My voice cracked as I ordered, “Run!” before pushing the girl in front of me as we made our retreat.

Things promptly sped up after that.  The man said something in a language I didn’t recognize, and almost instantly I heard footsteps following us.  “The two men he hired to help,” the girl gasped before I could even ask who was chasing us.

I sprinted so I was running in front of the girl, grabbed her hand, and dragged her around a corner, pulling her towards the Festival.  “We’re goin’ t’ try t’ lose ‘em in th’ crowds,” I panted.  “Don’ let go o’ my hand no matter what!”

A good thief knows all the roads of the city he works in.  I made good use of every alley, backyard garden, and obstacle I could without slowing ourselves down too much.  We hopped over fences, hid behind buildings, and slipped through holes barely big enough for the two of us to pass through.  The sounds of pursuit faded and finally disappeared altogether; shortly after that we burst into the Festival Courtyard and were hidden in the crowds.

I picked a small niche in the audience of several amateur acrobats for us to stop and catch our breath.  Now that we were still, I realized that the girl was about the same height as me, and probably about the same age.  We simply stood and panted for several minutes before the girl asked me, “Are we still being followed?”

I shrugged.  “Y’ tell me – I dunno what those men even looked like,” I pointed out.  “D’y’ see ‘em anywhere?”

The girl hopped up and down to try and see over the heads of the adults around us.  “No.  I think they have lost our trail,” she said, turning to face me with a smile.  Then, much to my surprise, she curtsied!  Without a dress, even!  I didn’t think that was possible.  “Thank you, sir, for saving me.  I am eternally grateful, and I will see to it that you are duly rewarded.”

I had never been called ‘sir’ before in my life.  I felt my cheeks heat up and I stared at my feet as I said hastily, “T’weren’t nothin’.  Couldn’t just leave y’ there, could I?” I laughed nervously.

“Yes, you could have,” the girl said seriously.  “But you didn’t.  You are very kind.”

I had the feeling my cheeks resembled tomatoes.  “Stoppit,” I protested.  “’Sides, we aren’t out o’ danger yet.  ‘S just a matter o’ time before they think t’ check this crowd. We gotta keep moving.”  I grabbed her hand again and hauled her towards a music stand where a violinist was playing the popular ditty ‘Blue Eyes’ with great embellishment.  We paused there for a moment while I gathered my thoughts and the girl listened to the violinist as if she had never heard one play before.

The obvious question for the girl was why she had been kidnapped in the first place.  Despite what had happened, it was obvious the danger seemed remote to her.  She wasn’t even checking the crowd for the men who had kidnapped her.  As I observed this I realized that everything she did was completely contrary to her plain choice of dress.  She acted, well – aristocratic!  Suddenly I wondered what I had gotten myself involved in.  Had she been kidnapped because of a family feud?  Was she running away and trying to hide as a commoner?  Most importantly, could I end up blamed for her disappearance?  Her parents probably had every constable on the streets looking for her if they knew she was missing.  Aristocratic families don’t just let their kids run away (or get kidnapped, for that matter).  Beyond that, those hired hands were still looking for us, and their spooky employer was still out there somewhere, searching for his quarry.

The rendition of ‘Blue Eyes’ was ending and the crowd was breaking up.  I grasped her hand again and pulled her away, slipping into the audience of a fire-breather.  Once we were safely tucked in the throng, I grabbed the girl’s shoulders and turned her to face me.  She blinked at me, and I couldn’t help thinking that she had very large, very pretty brown eyes.  I shook my head and asked the question.  “Hey, why’re y’ kidnapped in the first place?  You’re dressed like a peasant but you’re definitely not one.  Y’ act like a noblewoman,” I told her.

The girl drew a sharp breath.  “I’m that obvious?” she asked desperately, sounding terribly disappointed.  I nodded, and she looked away, face crumpling as if she was in pain.  “Do you promise not to tell anyone?  I won’t blame you if you desert me, but please, don’t tell anyone!”  She looked up at me pleadingly and grasped my arm tightly with slender, perfect fingers.

I felt a little guilty for being so abrupt with her.  I let go over her shoulders.  “Look, I’m not even gonna desert you.  That creepy guy saw me too, so I’m just as mixed up in this as you are.  I just need t’ know what I’ve been roped into, a’ right?”

The girl searched my face with those large, pretty eyes and smiled slightly.  “All right.”  She let go of my arm and stood straight.  Even wearing peasant clothes, she looked very regal.  She spoke quietly due the crowds around us.  “I am Medallion de Kalgrath, daughter of King Halbereth de Kalgrath, and Princess of Valen.”

Even as she deflated and examined my face for a reaction, I cried, “Hell’s bells!  You’re the what?”  I stared at my hands.  I’d dared to grab the Princess by the shoulders?  And what was she doing out here on the streets of the capital city, dressed in peasant clothes, much less being kidnapped?  I was lost for words, so instead I stared at her.

“Oh, please don’t be mad at me!” she begged.  “I’m so sorry!”

“Mad?  At you?”  It dawned on me that I should be on my knees kissing her feet, not gaping at her, but some corner of my brain that retained rationality told me that right now, kissing her feet would be a bad idea.  “I should – I mean –“ I paused, ran my hand through my short hair, and tried to gather my thoughts.  “Er … uh, o’ course I’m not mad at you.  What d’y’ want me t’ call you?  I mean, I guess y’ don’ want me t’ call y’ Princess,” I finally managed.

“Oh, please call me Meda,” she answered in a relieved voice.  “Thank you so much!  I was afraid you would, well – shout for a constable, or something.  I don’t want to be found!  Not yet!”  She was desperate again, pleading with me.

I just blinked at her with wide eyes.  “Um … okay.  If y’ don’ want t’ be found, I won’t let y’ be found.  But, uh, why are y’ dressed like that?  And who would dare t’ kidnap you?”

She smiled at me; it was an apologetic smile.  “It’s a very long story, and I cannot tell it here in these crowds.  I was reluctant even to tell you who I am here, but I didn’t see any other options.  Is there anywhere else we can go?”

I shook my head to clear it and looked up at the sun.  I estimated that it was about noontide.  Soon the crowds would start dissipating as the heat of the day intensified.  In fact, now that I thought about it, I was beginning to sweat in my nice green coat.  “A’ right, we can go, but y’ gotta keep a lookout for those kidnappers,” I told her.  “That big one, he just snuck right up on me, and not t’ boast, but that’s hard t’ do.  Uh … y’ sure you’re okay with this, Pri – Meda?”  I asked.  “Wherever I take you, ‘s not going t’ be very nice compared t’ the palace or anythin’.”

“I know,” the Princess said.  “It’s all right.  I’m dressed like this for a reason.”

“Yeah, an’ I can’t wait t’ find out what ‘t is,” I mumbled.

Meda laughed.  “Well, I’ve told you my name.  What is your name?”

“Uh, ‘s Kellan.”  I made an awkward bow.

“Just ‘Kellan’?”

“Jus’ Kellan.”  I took her hand – this time I was delicate with it.  “C’mon, we’ve gotta go before the crowds leave altogether.  I’ll get y’ someplace safe.”

“That’s the second time you have said that to me,” the Princess pointed out.

I blushed.

*   *   *

                I took her on the most roundabout route I could towards the Knights of Valen, an inn with a better reputation than most.  I didn’t think that my usual haunts were really appropriate to take a princess to.  Once we were inside, I picked an empty table in the common room tucked in a corner and sat where I could see the door easily.  I made sure that Meda, on the other hand, was not visible from the doorway.

                Meda gazed around the room in wonder.  “It’s so plain, but very homey,” she said with a smile.  “Do you think we are safe here?”

                “No, but ‘t is as safe as anywhere else in Kalgrath,” I told her honestly.  “Y’ want somethin’ t’ eat?”

                “Actually, if that is all right …” she made it a question.

                “Hey, I wouldn’t o’ offered if ‘t wasn’t okay,” I waved her off.  “When th’ mistress comes by, she’ll tell us what’s served t’day.”

                “All right.  Then until she comes by, I’ll tell you anything I can.”  Meda folded her hands in her lap and looked at me.  “Is there anything in particular you wanted to know?”

                “Well, uh, y’ can start with why you’re dressed like that,” I suggested.

                Meda nodded.  “I am … I am running away from the palace.”  She looked at me for a reaction, and I motioned for her to go on.  “I’m concerned about my father.  He’s considering entering a treaty with Cador, and I don’t trust the Cadorians at all.  They’ve only been treacherous enemies in the past.  The treaty blatantly favors Cador, and – does this mean anything to you?”

                Of course, it didn’t.  I’d never been outside of Kalgrath, much less Valen, and thievery doesn’t require a strong grasp of politics.  “Not really, but ‘t doesn’t really matter.  So you’re leavin’ because o’ this treaty thing?”

                “Father’s a very smart man.  I don’t believe – well, I think that he’s being influenced to agree to this treaty!”  She frowned and stared at her lap for a moment before looking up at me again.  “I don’t know for certain, but Father’s been acting strangely of late, and I think he may have been bewitched.”

                “Bewitched?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.  “Y’ mean, magic-like bewitched?”

                “I know that black magic has been banned in all of Valen, but that does not mean no one is practicing it,” Meda told me earnestly.  “If someone has bewitched him to agree to a treaty that will hurt Valen, then I must stop him!  That is why I’m dressed like this.  I was trying to leave Kalgrath to go to Dal Gorge, and I was traveling incognito because Father has forbidden me from leaving the palace, which is also unlike him.  My cousin is the Duke of Dal Gorge, and I’m certain that he would know what to do about Father.”

                “Okay, that makes sense … I guess,” I said slowly, glancing at the doorway.  Several patrons came in, but none of them resembled the kidnappers.  “So, then … how did y’ end up kidnapped?”

                Meda shook her head.  “That I only have suspicions about.  I believe it was someone associated with Cador.  You see, I left the palace grounds last night.  No more than a stone’s throw from the Outer Palace walls, I was grabbed and – and that is the last thing I remember.  I got one good look at the men who were kidnapping me, and then I fainted from the smell of the fireweed they pressed to my nose.”  She was scowling again, this time in thought.  “It is possible that they did not have any idea who I was, but that is unlikely.  I believe that somehow the Cadorians must have found out about my intentions and endeavored to prevent me from carrying out my plans.”

                It sounded logical, but something about it didn’t ring true.  “I dunno about that, Meda.  I mean, ‘s a nice theory and all, but somethin’ about ‘t hits me wrong.  I’ll think of what ‘t is sooner or later.”

                Meda wasn’t upset that I didn’t agree with her.  She just nodded.  “It is only a theory.  But …” she looked at her lap and bit her lip before continuing.  “You aren’t going to … to leave me alone, now that you know what I’m doing, will you?  You won’t call a constable on me, will you?”

                I grinned at her in what I hoped was a reassuring way.  “’Course I won’t.  I wouldn’t get within a stone’s throw o’ a constable if I could help ‘t,” I told her.  “’Sides, I can help you.  You’re goin’ about getting out o’ Kalgrath all the’ wrong way.”

                “I am?” she asked in surprise.

                “Yeah.  Well, getting out o’ Kalgrath isn’t really the problem,” I clarified.  “’S getting to Dal Gorge that’s gonna be hard.  If y’ gotta do this undercover, y’ need t’ find someone who’ll give you a ride.”

                “What?” she tilted her head.

                “A ride.  Y’ gotta find someone who’ll let y’ ride their wagon in exchange for a doin’ a job or somethin’.  ‘Course, if y’ don’ wanna do that, y’ could just flash your credentials at anyone y’ want to.  Anyone would give a free ride t’ the Princess right quick, if y’ asked ‘em.”

                “But then I would leave a trail for the Palace Guards to follow,” she protested.

                “Y’ could ask ‘em not t’ tell anyone y’ rode with ‘em,” I suggested.

                “But if someone asked in the name of the King of Valen, would they be able to say no?”

                “Oh.  I guess not,” I realized.

                Finally the mistress of the inn approached.  She was a stout, strong-armed woman who carried a frying pan over her shoulder, dented by the heads of those she had hit with it.  The Knights of Valen had a good reputation because of the indisputable order she kept.  “Hey, y’ two lovebirds, sorry we don’ have a good love potion on th’ menu t’day,” she said by way of opening.

Meda blushed, bringing a pleasing color to her pale cheeks.  “Oh, no, we’re not –“ she began.

I cut her off.  “Yeah, thanks, ma’am,” I said with a silly grin.  “M’ girlfriend here ‘s real pretty, isn’t she?”  I didn’t wait for the mistress to answer.  “But y’ know, her old boyfriend, he’s a mite jealous o’ me, an’ I was wonderin’ – have y’ seen anyone real tall, with black hair and eyes, dressed like a nobleman and built like a rock, and with a mean glare come in here?”

“Nope, no one by that description’s passed through.  I’ll let y’ know if he comes in while you’re enjoying your dinner,” she promised.

“Thanks,” I told her.  “Uh, so, what’ve y’ got?”

“We got mutton stew with ‘taters, cabbage soup, an’ bread an’ cheese.  I can serve y’ both with everything for a Queen’s Silver.”

It was a goodly amount of money, but I wasn’t about to skimp on a princess.  I fished a Queen’s Silver out of my purse and laid it on the table.  “There ‘t is, ma’am.”

“I’ll bring y’ some right away,” the mistress promised as she picked up the coin, bustling off.

I turned to Meda to apologize for the lie, but she was smiling!  I blinked at her as she exclaimed, “Oh, that was brilliant, Kellan!  I would have never thought of that!”

I blushed.  “’S not that big a deal.”

“I think it is.”

Dinner came; it was the best food I had eaten in moons.  The Princess didn’t find the meal as delicious as I did (not that I blame her).  She poked the lump of mutton in the stew with her spoon.  “Do you really eat this?” she asked, frowning delicately.

“O’ course y’ do.”  I swallowed a mouthful of potatoes and offered her my eating knife.  “I guess y’ don’ carry one o’ these around.  Cut ‘t up with this and eat ‘t.  ‘S better than ‘t looks.”

She gave me an incredulous look.  “That’s the same knife you used to cut up my bonds!”

I looked at the knife.  “Er … yeah.  I, uh, I guess y’ don’ eat and work with one knife usually, do you?”  I began to cut my own mutton apart with it.

“It’s unsanitary,” Meda said primly, turning her attention to the soup.

“Un- what?” I asked, looking up at her.

                The Princess gave an exaggerated sigh.  “It’s not clean, Kellan.”

                “Well y’ know, I don’ exactly have much of a choice here.  A good dagger costs a lot more money than I got,” I told her plainly.

                “That is a shame.  Everyone should have enough money to eat clean food,” Meda announced righteously.

                “’S a nice dream, Meda, but t’ is not likely t’ happen.”

                “I will fix that when I’m the Queen.”  Meda was sipping at the soup.  She put down her spoon after a moment and said, “Well, the soup is delicious.  What sort of soup did she say it was?”

                “Cabbage.  ‘S pretty common soup, so I’m glad y’ like ‘t,” I told her.

                “Cabbage.  Yes, we have that soup at the palace, too.”  She shrugged and looked up at me again, sheepishly.  “I guess I shouldn’t say things like that, should I?  You’re trying so hard to hide me, and I am ruining your efforts.”

                “Er, jus’ don’ make announcements about bein’ the Queen or nothin’,” I suggested.

                “All right.  And I am sorry for being so picky about the food.”  Meda sighed and frowned with determination.  “I’m going to have to get used to this, will I not?  I’m traveling undercover to see the Duke of Dal Gorge!  I’ll have to eat food like this for a while!”

                But as she was speaking, the mistress bustled back over to our table.  “Dear, y’ asked me t’ tell you if you’re love rival came hereabouts?”

                “Yes’m.  Did y’ see him?” I asked.  Meda cast me a worried look, and I made a placating motion.

                “Well, he fits the description y’ gave,” she told me, pointing.  “’S that him?”

                I followed her finger and found myself looking, unmistakably, at the kidnapper with the creepy gaze.  “That’s him, a’ right.  I’d appreciate ‘t if you’d keep him a little busy while we’re leavin’,” I requested.

                “If it’ll keep your trouble out o’ my inn, that’s fine with me.”  She began to beat her frying pan against her open palm, slowly.

                I gulped.  “Thanks, ma’am.  We’ll be goin’, now.”  I grabbed Meda’s hand and began to make a hasty exit.  The mistress, still beating the frying pan against her hand, worked her way over to the kidnapper.

*   *   *

                The sun was scorching, and the roads were almost empty.  I felt as vulnerable as a newborn colt.  Meda hung close to me as we hurried through the back alleys, into the better parts of town, where the constables would still be plentiful.  For the first time in my life, I wanted to be close to the constables.  At least in front of them, the kidnapper couldn’t just snatch the Princess and run off.

                By now I really wanted to know who that kidnapper was.  It was hard to believe that this whole adventure had begun only a few candles before.  Meda seemed really nervous by this point.  I finally asked her, “Meda?  Are you okay?”

                “How … how could that man have found us so quickly?” Meda grasped my arm.  “This city is huge, and we had lost him completely!  How was that possible?”

                “Hey, you were the one talkin’ about the bewitchin’.  Maybe he tracked us wi’ magic.  Y’ think he may be the black magician you’re looking for?”

                “Perhaps …” Her voice trailed off.  “Do you hear that?”

                She was right; something was coming.  I stopped in the deserted intersection to listen with Meda to the approaching noise.  It sounded like a group of men, singing loudly (but not drunkenly).  I shrugged.  “Yeah.  So?”

                “That’s a marching song.  The Knights of Valen sing it,” the Princess told me.  She looked around eagerly.  “Let’s find them!”

                “Are y’ nuts?” I demanded.  “I thought y’ said y’ didn’t want t’ be found yet!  They’ll take y’ straight back t’ the palace!”

                “No they won’t,” Meda said confidently.  “I just won’t tell them who I am.  I’ll ask where I can find the Duke.”

                “Either they’ll figure out who you are anyway or they won’t tell y’ because you’re jus’ a peasant girl,” I hissed.  “Don’ be silly.”

                “I am not being silly.  Now come on, help me.”

                I grabbed her hand and turned around, pulling her back towards the alleyway we had come from.  The Knights were getting closer.  “No.  If y’ don’ want t’ be caught yet, you’ll stay out o’ their way.”

                “Kellan! Let me go this instant!” Meda tried to pull her hand out of my grip.

                I hung on.  “I’m jus’ tryin’ t’ help you!”

                “I am ordering you right now to let go of –“

                The Princess only got halfway through her sentence when the whole argument became moot because a Knight came around the corner and crashed into my back.  I toppled forward and landed on my elbows and knees on the cobblestones before immediately rolling onto my back to stare up at the Knight.  Meda gasped.  The Knight halted in surprise and blinked at me.  His companion came around the corner to stare at me as well.

                “Um …” I scrambled to my feet as quickly as I could and bowed.  “I’m terrible sorry, sir.”

                The Knight, a wide, powerfully built, dark-skinned man, scowled.  “Watch where you’re going next time, peasant!”

                The other Knight, a sandy-haired, blue-eyed, pointy-eared half-elf, laid a hand on his companion’s arm, frowning slightly.  “Sir Daniel, restraint!  Is there any reason to be cruel?”

                Sir Daniel held out an accusing hand in my direction.  “He ran into me!”

                The other Knight laughed.  “Actually, I believe it was you who ran into him.”

                Sir Daniel scowled.  I swallowed and wished that the other Knight hadn’t come to my defense.  He was about to say something more when the Princess spoke up.

                “Sir Gareth?  Sir Gareth de Sal?”

The Knight who had spoken in my defense looked up at her.  I winced.  “Sir, she’s a ravin’ loony,” I said, trying to push Meda behind me.  “I’m terrible sorry she’s bothered you.  We’ll be goin’ –“

“Princess?”  Sir Gareth frowned slightly at her, getting to one knee so he was nearer to her eye level.  “Are you Princess Medallion?”

Hell’s bells! I thought in exasperation, running a hand through my hair.  Now she’ll be taken back t’ the castle and she’ll never get t’ the Duke!  Well, I wash my hands o’ ‘t.  She’s the one that ruined her cover.

Meda, meanwhile, was overjoyed.  “Sir Gareth!  Oh, thank goodness!”  She flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him on the nose.  “If you’re here, Cousin Nathan must be in Kalgrath!  This is wonderful!”

Sir Gareth laughed and enfolded the Princess in his arms.  “Meda!  It’s been what, two cycles?  You’ve grown so much!”  He pulled out of the embrace to look at her, concern in his deep blue eyes.  “Everyone has been looking for you since last night.  Where have you been?”

I scratched my head.  I couldn’t help noticing that everything about his built shouted ‘half-elf’.  I wondered how anyone descended from elves could be associated with the palace, since it’s common knowledge that elves hate humans.  “Um … what’s goin’ on?”

Meda looked at me.  “Oh! Sir Gareth, this is Kellan.  He rescued me.  Kellan, this is Sir Gareth Calvin de Sal, a member of the personal guard of the Duke of Dal Gorge.  I’ve known him since I was an infant.”  She hugged him again.  I just gaped.

“Wait.  Rescued?”  Sir Daniel pointed at me.  “He rescued you?  From what?”  Suddenly it occurred to him that I was showing absolutely no respect for the Princess of Valen, and he decided to remedy the situation by forcing me to my knees with a beefy hand.  “Bow, you knave!”

“Sir Knight, leave him be!  He rescued me from the men who kidnapped me, of course,” Meda said primly.  Sir Daniel bowed in apology and let me stand.

“Who kidnapped you!?” demanded Sir Gareth.

“If I may ask, Princess, why are you dressed like that?” asked Sir Daniel.

“Er, Princess?”  I waved my hand to get her attention.  “Maybe y’ should tell th’ story from th’ beginning.”

Meda laughed and smiled at me.  “Kellan is absolutely right.  Let me start from the beginning.”

*   *   *

                Two candles later I was seated next to Meda and across from Sir Daniel at the table Sir Gareth had selected in the Holly Branch Inn.  The inn was the definitely the nicest place I’d ever eaten and did an excellent job of making up for our lost dinner.  The Princess seemed to find the menu more to her liking here.  Best of all, Sir Gareth was footing the bill.  I was quickly forgetting to be suspicious of his bloodlines.

                “So Kellan promised to help me find Cousin Nathan,” Meda was saying, “And then he proceeded to tell me how to obtain a ride to Dal Gorge.  Isn’t that right, Kellan?”

                I nodded and swallowed another mouthful of beer to wash down the bread and cheese.  I had never tasted such excellent beer.  “This is good stuff, Sir Gareth,” I said, holding up the tankard.  “Thanks.”

                Sir Gareth gave me a bemused half smile.  “I’ve never seen anyone so small drink beer.”

                “’S the only drink worth havin’ where I come from,” I told him.  “Th’ water’s foul.”

                “That’s vulgar,” Sir Daniel observed.  I scowled at him and took another swig.

                “After that the kidnapper came to the inn, so we left.  And then we ran into you, Gareth.”  Meda smiled again.  “Thank you so much for not taking me to the palace.  I hope you understand why I didn’t want to go back, now.”

                Sir Gareth shook his head.  “It’s no problem at all, Meda.  However, the palace has missed you, dear,” he added.  “Half the Knights in Kalgrath are looking for you.”

                “Yes … can you tell me about my cousin and what he’s up to, how my father is doing, and what has happened regarding the negotiations with Cador?”

                Sir Gareth sighed.  “Duke Nathan returned to Kalgrath because he is concerned about your father, just as you are.  He came to talk to the King, but the King has refused to see him until the negotiations are over.”  He gave Meda a sorrowful look.  “As soon as you disappeared the King ordered a search for you and demanded that you be immediately returned to the palace, where you will be kept under lock and key until after the treaty has been signed.  Your father has been acting very strangely of late, has he not?”

                Meda closed her eyes an bowed her head.  A single tear slipped down her cheek.  “Father … someone has bewitched him!  I am sure of it!”

                I swallowed the chicken I was chewing and hesitantly patted the Princess on the back.  “Hey, it’ll be a’ right.  Sir Gareth’ll get y’ t’ the Duke an’ th’ Duke’ll stop th’ King.”

                Sir Gareth looked sympathetic.  “Kellan is absolutely right.  Tomorrow I can try to, er, smuggle you into the Duke’s quarters at the palace so you might speak to him.”

                Meda gave Sir Gareth a tearful smile.  “Oh, thank you, Gareth.  You are a true friend.”

                I could have sworn that Sir Gareth’s cheeks tinged pink, but it was hard to tell in the dim room.

                “Well, in the meantime, you should try to stay unnoticed, Meda,” he said authoritatively.  “I’ll rent a room here for you, and tomorrow I’ll get you to the Duke.”  Sir Gareth winked at me as he stood.  “And as a reward for you gallantry, Kellan, I’ll rent a room for you tonight, as well.”

                “’S really not that big a deal,” I said, embarrassed.

                “Rescuing a princess?  Nonsense!”  Sir Gareth laughed and left the table.  I blushed, and Meda smiled at me.

                “This must work,” Meda confided to me that night as we mounted the steps to our rooms.  “In two days, my father will sign the treaty with Cador!”

*   *   *

Okay, let me take another break here and explain something.  You may have noticed that Sir Daniel got really quiet during our meal.  Well, that’s because he left.  I’m not sure at all how he managed to do it so quietly, but Sir Daniel was gone before anyone missed him.  It’s kind of important for you to know that.

And about Sir Gareth – it turns out his father, an elf, was good friends with King Halbereth before he became the King, and he lived with humans.  He married a human girl, and that’s how Sir Gareth came to be.  So, don’t be suspicious of him.  He’s one of the good Knights.

Sir Gareth had a well-padded purse, and he rented two rooms – one for Meda, and one for himself and me.  The room Sir Gareth and I shared was large and had a stone fireplace (not that anyone wanted to use it), two cushioned chairs positioned next to a table in the corner, and two raised, feather-stuffed pallets complete with a blanket and pillow.  There was even a window that opened to let in the summer breezes.  I thought it was luxury, and I told Sir Gareth as much.  He laughed at me.

Like all good thieves, I slept like a cat – one ear always cocked for danger.  It was so automatic now I did it despite my comfortable surroundings.

It didn’t do me any good.

It was still pitch dark outside the window when I awoke suddenly.  The oil lamp on the table and sputtered and died.  I guessed it was about the second candle.

Outside our room I could hear men murmuring and shifting on their feet.  I tensed and tuned my ear to their conversation, but I couldn’t understand them.  The wooden door, which I had thought so wonderfully thick when I laid down to sleep, kept their words from my ears.

The next sound I heard was a door – Meda’s door – being slammed against.

Sir Gareth stirred.  I rolled off of my pallet and landed on my feet, grateful that I slept in all my clothes except my green jacket.  I groped for my eating knife.  Meda’s door was struck again, and I heard a cracking noise as the steel lock tore out of the wall and the door slammed open.  I heard Meda scream.

I was about to throw myself at the door, knife or no, and come to her rescue when Sir Gareth said, “Kellan!” and tossed me my knife.  He was out of his pallet and holding his sword, dressed in nothing but his smallclothes.  “The Princess!”

But before we could even move, our own door was struck.  The lock tore out of place (cheap bolt-work, I thought angrily) and the door flew open, and a constable, accompanied by two palace guards, strode into the room.  To my horror, they carried manacles.  Sir Gareth straightened, letting his sword drop from his hands, and took a submissive posture.  I held tight to my knife.

The constable spoke.  “In the name of the King of Valen, I am placing both of you under arrest for the kidnapping of Princess Medallion de Kalgrath.  Guards.”

“What?” I demanded as one of the guards came forward to chain my arms.  I pulled away.  “We didn’t kidnap th’ Princess!  We’re tryin’ t’ help her!”

“I’m sorry.  I’m just doing my job,” the constable shrugged.  I glared at him.

“Kellan.  Relax.  We’ll be exonerated.  The King has an excellent trial system in place,” Sir Gareth comforted me even as the other guard snapped the manacles on his wrists.

“That’s encouragin’!  You yourself said th’ King is actin’ funny,” I pointed out.  The guard grabbed my hands and took my knife as I spoke and applied the manacles.  They were heavier than I expected; my arms felt like lead weights.  I let them hang towards the floor as I wondered who could have done this.

Sir Daniel! The sneak had left in the middle of the meal to tell the Guard where the Princess was.  I snarled under my breath.

“Shh, Kellan.”  Sir Gareth let the guard lead him out of the room.

“You really should follow the Knight’s example,” the constable told me.

I spat at his feet.  “Hell’s bells!  I dunno ‘bout him, but I’m not goin’ t’ the grave so easy,” I snarled.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of a choice about leaving the room, as the Palace Guard was a lot stronger than I was.

As Sir Gareth and I were marched out, we passed Meda, who was being clutched by another constable.  She was crying.  “I’m sorry!  I’m so sorry!” she sobbed.  “I won’t let Father hang you, I swear it!”

“Hey, don’ worry,” I said cheerfully.  “Jus’ take care o’ yourself, Princess.  I’m told th’ King has an excellent trial system in place.”

The guard guiding me knocked me upside the head for being smart.  I think I deserved it.

*   *   *

After a long and miserable gaol-cart ride through the streets of Kalgrath to the palace, we were thrown unceremoniously into a cell in the royal dungeons.  For several moments I just lay on my stomach where I landed, my manacles digging into my gut.  Then I asked, “Sir Gareth?  What jus’ happened?”

“You’ve been arrested for high treason – conspiring to kidnap and kidnapping the Princess of Valen, her Highness Medallion de Kalgrath,” answered a voice I didn’t recognize.

I raised myself on my elbows, frowning into the inky darkness, and asked,  “Who said that?” at the same time as Sir Gareth exclaimed, “My Lord!”

My eyes adjusted to the dark slowly, and I could make out a figure sitting in the corner of the cell, his elbows resting on his knees and his wrists shackled the same way ours were.  He had stylish shoulder-length brown hair, which he had tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck.  His clothes were the definition of style, and very expensive if I was any judge of thread.  He wore a bemused smile on his face, as if our situation was somehow amusing.  “The answer to your question, boy, is Duke Nathan Kalgrath de Dal Gorge, the King’s nephew, said that.  I believe you two must be my fellow conspirators?”

I blinked at him and Sir Gareth drew his breath sharply.  “You were accused of kidnapping Meda?”

“Yes, Sir Gareth, and you shouldn’t be so surprised,” the Duke said with a knowing tone.  “It would seem that all three of us are the victims of a Cadorian conspiracy.”

“A what?” I asked, sitting up and crossing my legs.  I could make out Sir Gareth sitting in a similar fashion, frowning at the stone floor with his chin in his hand.

“A conspiracy – we’ve been set up,” the Duke explained.

“Oh.” I found myself trusting the Duke instinctively; he was smart and likeable.

“Then you believe the Cadorians are behind all of this?” Sir Gareth asked.

“I do.  They know that I can convince the King to turn down their treaty.  I suppose Meda has been trying to stop him from signing the treaty as well?” he asked.  Sir Gareth nodded.  “Then that settles my last questions.  We, who agree with Meda and would try to argue on her behalf, are all accused of treason so we cannot speak with the King.  The Princess will be locked away in her chambers so she also has no contact with the King; this will be excused as a way to protect her from another kidnapping attempt.”  The Duke frowned.

“But Meda ran away on her own,” I pointed out.  “She was tryin’ t’ get t’ you!”

“That won’t matter.  The Cadorians have the King wrapped around their finger.  If the Cadorian ambassador says that you kidnapped the Princess, than the King will believe that you kidnapped the Princess.”

“Then Meda was right – the King is bewitched,” Sir Gareth said angrily.  “If only I could get near him and get a feel for the magic –!”

“’F wishes were horses, I’d have a personal cavalry,” I said flatly.  “Hell’s bells!  So what ‘appens now?”

“We are sentenced to death for treason, and hung at dawn the next day,” the Duke answered calmly.

I snarled silently.  “I don’ think so.  I’m not hangin’ for somethin’ I didn’t do!  ‘Sides, the Princess ‘s gonna cry if y’ die, my Lord,” I added to the Duke.  “She’s awful fond o’ you, an’ y’ too, Sir Gareth.  An’ her father’ll never get better unless we do somethin’.  An’ somethin’ bad’ll happen t’ Valen, though heaven knows I don’ get th’ politics an’ all.”

The Duke chuckled.  “What’s your name, boy?”

“Kellan, my Lord.  Jus’ Kellan.  I don’ have a family name, so don’ ask.”

“All right, Kellan.  You’re right; we won’t just lay down and die, so don’t fret.  Tomorrow we will be placed on trial before an impartial judge, and if we successfully defend ourselves, then we may be exonerated.  The King has an excellent trial system in place.”

“An’ this is th’ same King that’s gone all loony on us,” I groaned, flopping into a pile of straw that was apparently intended to act as a bed.  “’F I hear about his trial system one more time, I’m gonna cry!”

Sir Gareth had the nerve to laugh at me.  I chucked a pebble at his head for daring.

*   *   *

The trial took place the next morning in the huge, ornate courtroom of the palace.  The King himself came, as did the Princess, to witness the proceedings, and the Cadorian ambassador was the prosecutor because he was the one who had accused us of kidnapping.

At least, that’s what I’m told.  Because I wasn’t there.

At about noontide the Duke, Sir Gareth and I were all dragged out of our cell and marched up flights of stairs, down long hallways, and finally deposited in the room where the trial had apparently taken place.  The proceedings were being wrapped up when the Palace Guard escort pushed us forward, into the center of the room.

“I find all three defendants guilty!”  A man dressed entirely in black and sitting higher than anything else except the King’s throne – the judge, I guessed – banged a hammer on his desk.  “They are sentenced to death by hanging for high treason.  So be it!”

I gaped at the judge.  A palace guard grabbed my arm and began to drag me from the room.  “Hey!  Don’ we get t’ say anythin’?” I demanded.  The Duke motioned for me to be silent, but I ignored him.  “Hey!  I thought that we were s’pposed t’ get a fair trial!  Don’ we get t’ tell our side o’ th’ story?”

“Kellan!” a familiar voice shouted.  “Nathan!  Wait, don’t take them away yet!  Gareth!”

I looked up.  “Princess?”

Princess Medallion de Kalgrath was running towards me.  Despite everything that was happening, I was struck by how beautiful she looked.  Her curly hair was done up in a bun at the back of her head, but curls still fell around her tear-streaked face.  She grasped my hand.  “Kellan, I tried to save you – I truly did!” She looked as if she would cry again.  “I’m so sorry to have gotten you mixed up in this!”

“’S a’ right, Princess,” I said quietly, looking at her hair –

Her hair!  Suddenly I was grabbed by inspiration.  Before the guard could stop me, I ran my grimy fingers through her beautiful curls.  “You’re awful pretty t’day.  Don’ let us ruin that.”

“Get off of the Princess!”  The guard smacked my hand away.

The Princess, however, stared at me, then touched her hand to her hair.  “Oh.  Oh!” She smiled then quickly hid her grin.  “I won’t, Kellan.  I’ll keep fighting for all of you!  This is not over yet!”

“No, ‘s not,” I agreed before being shoved in the direction of the door.

*   *   *

                “Well, so much for th’ fair trial y’ kept touting,” I observed to the Duke and Sir Gareth once we were back in our cell.  “In fact, both o’ y’ were wrong.  See if I ever listen t’ either o’ you again.”

                “I had not realized how far things had gone,” the Duke admitted.  He was staring at the stone floor.  “Forgive me.”

                “Now, don’ be so hard on yourself,” I said consolingly.  “’S not th’ end o’ the world.”

                “You seem awfully cheery,” Sir Gareth said in a neutral tone.  He was glowering at me with his fierce elfin eyes.  “Is there a reason you are picking on my Lord Duke?”

                “Not really,” I admitted.  “But I do have a reason t’ be cheery.”  I held my hand – the one I had stroked the Princess’ hair with – and displayed the contents.

                The Duke realized what it was before Sir Gareth did.  “A hairpin.”  He looked at me with a puzzled expression.  “What good is that?”

                I grinned.  “’S good enough t’ get us out o’ here.  Any thief worth his salt can pick a lock with one o’ these.”

                “Thief?” echoed the Duke and Sir Gareth almost in unison.

“That’s what I am,” I answered.  “But don’ spread ‘t around. An’ I’d prefer t’ wait ‘til our guard is preoccupied with supper or somesuch t’ use ‘t. Can y’ wait that long?”

“Are you saying that you can get us out of here?” Sir Gareth asked cautiously.

“Shh!” I put a finger to my lips.  “Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin’.”

The Duke, who had apparently sunk into some sort of depression during the trial, was slowly brightening.  You could almost see the gears turning behind his dark green eyes.  “Excellent!  Hide that thing away, Kellan, until tonight.  Our only chance to save Valen, stop the Cadorians, and cure the King will be tonight!”  He smiled slightly.  “I think that hairpin may solve all our problems.”

“I like th’ sound o’ that,” I said honestly.

The Duke laughed.

*   *   *

“I wish I could see what I was doin’,” I mumbled.

“Can you still pick the lock?” the Duke whispered.

“Sure, but ‘s gonna take a little longer.”  I shut my eyes and tried to imagine what my hand was doing.  “’S the guard comin’?”

“No,” Sir Gareth replied.

It was the twenty-third candle, by the Duke’s estimation.  We had spent nearly an entire candle pretending to sleep, and as the Duke had predicted, the guard at our door had shortly thereafter ascended the stairs, taking the only torch in the dungeons with him.  I could barely hear the sound of several men playing cards over our heads.

With the only light gone, the Duke and I were blinded by darkness, but Sir Gareth had his elfin blood to aid him.  Not only could he still see easily, he claimed he could hear the guards’ conversation with ease.  After I had used the hairpin to unlock our manacles, the Duke had positioned Sir Gareth in the corner of the cell where he could look through the barred window to watch for the guard.  I was against the door, hairpin in the lock.  It was tedious work, but any smart thief can be patient.  Besides, the lock was a simple one, and I expected to have it picked in half a candle.

“Good.”

“We can grease th’ hinges o’ th’ door with th’ cheese from supper, so they don’ squeal,” I said.

“Even better.  Sir Gareth.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“You and I will take on the guards upstairs.  Once we have the keys to the dungeon and our weapons, we will go the Cadorian ambassador’s quarters.  Then perhaps we can solve this mystery once and for all,” the Duke said, a hint of anger coming into his tone.

Just as he finished speaking, I hit the lock’s magic spot.  There was a click.  “I got th’ lock,” I whispered triumphantly.  I wrested the pin from the door.  The Duke was already rubbing a wedge of the greasy cheese we had been given for supper against the upper hinge of the door.  I started on the lower hinge.  “Is anyone coming, Gareth?” the Duke murmured.

“No, sir,” Sir Gareth whispered back.  “Wait.  One of them is talking about coming down to check on us.”

“Oh, that’s jus’ great,” I groaned, rubbing the hinge faster.  “Okay, that’s probably good enough, my Lord Duke.”

The Duke dropped what was left of the cheese and wiped his fingers on his breeches.  He pulled the door open a bit; the hinges were silent.  “Wonderful!  Gareth?”

“He’s going to finish this round of cards.  But the round is almost over,” Sir Gareth warned.

“Then let us hurry.”  The Duke pulled the door open the rest of the way.  Sir Gareth rose to his feet with an inhuman and fluid grace, following the Duke out of the cell; I followed Sir Gareth.

The Duke turned to face me at the base of the stairs.  “Stay behind us, Kellan.  Let us handle the guards.”  I just nodded.

At the top of the stairs three palace guards sat around a small table in a well-lit room, playing cards.  It took the Duke and Sir Gareth less than a minute to dispatch all three of them while I watched, amazed, from the stairwell.  When they were all knocked out, Sir Gareth retrieved his sword and the Duke selected a bladed staff from the weapons on the wall.  The Knight tossed a beautifully constructed dagger to me.  “Can you use that, Kellan?”

I admired the weapon.  The handle was wrapped in worn leather and provided an excellent grip.  The blade, obviously the work of dwarves, was a perfect shade of white, carved with runes, and exactly one hand length long.  “O’ course I can use ‘t!  This is th’ best dagger I’ve ever seen!”

“Well, hang tight to it.  It could save your life tonight,” the Duke said.  “Let’s go.”

The Duke led Sir Gareth and me down the halls of the palace expertly.  I admired his knowledge of the palace.  Sir Gareth used his incredible elfin vision and hearing to warn us of approaching guards.  I thought that both the Duke and the Knight would make excellent thieves – but I didn’t say anything about that, of course.

After we had sneaked through the palace for over half a candle, the Duke halted.  He motioned to a door across the hall.  “The Cadorian ambassador is behind that door.  We cannot kill him but –“

Sir Gareth cut him off.  “Someone is performing magic in there!”  He was glaring at the door.

The Duke glanced at Sir Gareth sharply.  “Magic?”

“Th’ Princess said that she thought the King was bewitched,” I reminded everyone.

The Duke smiled nastily.  “It looks as if we have an explanation for everything,” he said quietly.  “Gareth, let’s break down that door!”  The two men charged, shoulders thrust forward to strike the door –

And the door swung open to reveal a tall, powerfully built man.

The Duke and Sir Gareth skidded to a halt.  I stared at the man standing in the doorway.  “That’s th’ kidnapper!” I cried.  Without thinking, I flung my dagger at him.

To my utter surprise, the dagger buried itself to the hilt in the man’s chest.

And he didn’t even bleed!

The kidnapper looked at the blade in his chest and then faced me.  “I foresaw that you would be my downfall,” he said in a thickly accented voice.  “So I have taken precautions.”  He pointed a finger at me.  “Rodac ethol nu’la!”

Sir Gareth made a strangled noise as the kidnapper spoke.  The Duke snarled and flung himself at the man.  I felt a tremor go through me.  My vision blackened.

There were sounds of combat, but my hearing was faint for some reason.  All I could think was that the Duke had told me to hang onto the dagger because it could save my life.  Sir Gareth was shouting.

I thought I heard a voice.  I closed my eyes and listened.  The body is not the soul, it said. The soul is not in the body.

Mother?  I asked.  How could I hear her?  She had died when I was just a few cycles old.

The soul is not in the body, the voice answered.  Be strong.  I thought I felt a kiss on my forehead - and then my mother’s voice faded away.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I heard Sir Gareth crying, “Al’un loh te Cador!  Al’un loh te Cador!”  He was shaking my shoulders.  My vision slowly returned.  I realized that I had collapsed on the ground.  “Wake up, Kellan!”

I looked up to see Sir Gareth’s pale, drawn face over mine.  “Where’s th’ kidnapper?” I asked. “Why aren’t y’ fightin’ him?”  I could still hear the Duke doing battle.

“Thank goodness!” the Knight sighed.  “You nearly died, Kellan.  This is a bad time to go about doing that!”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, but my mind wasn’t on what Sir Gareth was saying.  I was thinking of my dagger, buried to the hilt in the man’s chest, and the voices.

The soul is not in the body.

And suddenly everything clicked together.  “Sir Gareth!”  I clutched his arm.  “Sir Gareth, that man, he doesn’t have a soul!  I mean, his soul isn’t in ‘is body!”

Sir Gareth stared at me.  “What?”

“His soul!  ‘S not in his body!  He’s put ‘t someplace else!”  I staggered to my feet.  I could hear the battle behind me.  “Help me find where he put ‘is soul!”  I twisted to stare at the combatants.

The Duke was an amazing fighter, although the mysterious man was successfully fending him off with a sword.  He had scored several hits on the kidnapper, but the wounds were bloodless.  The hilt of the dagger was still buried in the man’s chest.

“It’s impossible to wound this man!” the Duke panted.   “He’s magicked himself, or something –“

“That’s what I’m sayin’!  He’s put ‘is soul somewhere else so y’ can’t hurt him!”  I gestured to the room the kidnapper had emerged from.  “Y’ can see ‘t, Sir Gareth, with your elfin sight.  Y’ gotta find ‘t!”

Sir Gareth looked at me for a moment, and then his eyes widened in recognition.  “That – that explains it!  Quickly –“ the Knight pushed his sword into my hands and pointed in the direction of the battle.  “Help the Duke!”  With that, he ran into the ambassador’s chambers.

There wasn’t much I could do; I could barely lift the sword, much less wield it.  I stood there helplessly as the Duke began to tire, and his strikes slowed.  Soon he was on the defensive, and the kidnapper was attacking relentlessly, tirelessly, and cruelly.  He scored a cut on the Duke’s shoulder, and another on his thigh, and finally, he knocked the bladed staff away from the Duke’s hands altogether.

The kidnapper put his sword to the Duke’s throat.  I swallowed hard and began to inch around to the man’s blind side, intending to rush him.  “After I have killed you, I will kill the boy,” the man said emotionlessly.  “The King will approve the treaty, and Cador will wipe Valen from the face of the earth, as foretold in prophecy.”

“Whose prophecy?” the Duke asked quietly, smiling bitterly in the face of death.

The man smiled slightly and leaned forward to drive the blade through the Duke’s throat.

Several things happened at once, then.  I charged the kidnapper, clumsily pointing my heavy blade at him.  The Duke took one sliding step backwards and to the side, causing the man to drive his sword forward into nothing and lose his balance.  And Sir Gareth gave a triumphant cry, followed by the sound of something glass shattering on the marble floor.

I skidded to a halt as a soundless scream filled the air for one horrible instant.  The Duke clapped his hands to his ears and gave me a bewildered look even as the scream ended.

The kidnapper’s body collapsed to the floor and lay there, lifeless.  The Duke and I stared at it for a few moments before the Duke squatted and turned it over.  He pulled the dagger free from its body and tossed it to me.  “Here; hang onto that next time,” he said with a small smile.  I nodded wordlessly.

Sir Gareth came out of the room at that moment.  He looked sickened.  “That man is the most talented black magician I have ever seen,” he said with absolutely no admiration in his voice.  “He had placed his soul in a bottle containing all his blood.”  Sir Gareth lifted a small vial filled with a purple liquid.  “And this is what he used to bewitch the King.”

“Destroy it,” the Duke said urgently.

“With pleasure, my Lord.”  Sir Gareth smiled and dropped the vial on the ground.  It shattered into a thousand fragments, but of the liquid there was no trace.

At that moment, five palace guards accompanying a dark-faced, scowling man, the Princess in a long white flowing nightgown, and an authoritative figure that could only have been the King came around the corner.  “There they are!  Arrest them!” the dark-faced man cried.

The palace guards began to come forward to do just that when the King – a tall, slightly overweight man with flowing brown hair and a trim beard – flung out his arm.  He looked confused.  “Stop,” he said.  He did not shout, but his voice carried a command that the dark-faced man could not manage.  The guards stopped and saluted His Majesty as he surveyed the scene slowly.  I flinched when his eyes fell on me; his gaze was piercing.  “Nathan?  What is going on here?”

The Duke bowed low.  It crossed my mind that I should do the same, so I got to my knees and bowed, too.  “Your Majesty, Princess, Master Ambassador, we have killed the man who truly kidnapped the Princess.  Forgive us for not coming to you beforehand, your Highness, but we had reason to believe that a conspiracy against all of Valen was being carried out.”

The dark-faced man’s eyes bugged out.  “The true kidnapper…?  Your Majesty, that man is my aide and advisor!  Surely you cannot believe –“

“It’s true!” the Princess gasped.  “That’s the man!”  Meda looked at all three of us with gratitude.  “Oh, thank you!  Thank you!  You have fixed everything!”

“Silence!”  The King’s command reverberated in the spacious hallway.  He rubbed his temples and shut his dark eyes.  “This … I feel faint.  My head …”

“Father?”  Meda asked worriedly.  She rushed to support his elbow.

“I am all right, Medallion.  I feel as if I can truly think for the first time in weeks.”  He looked up at Nathan.  “Nephew, I trust there is a very good explanation for this dead man in my palace?”

“An excellent one, your Majesty,” the Duke said with a weary smile.

“Then –“ the King paused and frowned, his fingers against his brow.  “I would love to trust you, but you are still charged with kidnapping.  Guards!  Have a Healer come and treat the Duke’s wounds, then escort these three gentlemen to a room for the night.  Keep them under lock and key.  Tomorrow, we will hold a second trial.”  The guards saluted and one of them jogged off down the hall to find a Healer.  The remaining four guards formed up around us.

“B-but your Majesty!” protested the ambassador.  “They have already been found guilty –“

“Silence!” the King said again, glaring at the ambassador.  “Your aide has been accused of conspiracy against Valen posthumously.  As long as you are in Valen, you are subject to our laws, not those of Cador.  Therefore, I would suggest that you mind your own concerns before you worry about my nephew’s.  After their trial –“ he gestured towards us – “I will hold another one for you.  Lock the ambassador in his chambers, as well,” the King added to the guards.

The ambassador began to sweat.

I looked at the Princess.  She was beaming; the smile lit up her whole face.  Again I realized how pretty she was.  The King, meanwhile, groaned and stroked his daughter’s hair.  “Come, Medallion; off to bed with you.  You will testify tomorrow?”

“Of course, Father.”  Meda clasped her hands around the King’s waist  “Oh, Father, you are acting like yourself again!”

The King smiled.  It made him look old, but very fatherly, I thought.  “I’m afraid I haven’t been myself for some time, now.  But it’s late.  Nathan, this can wait until the morning, can it not?”

Again the Duke nodded.  “Yes, of course.”

The ambassador spluttered as the King said, “Very good,” and walked away, Meda under his shoulder.  Then the ambassador turned to face the Duke.  “Do you dare to accuse me – and thus the very nation of Cador – of conspiring against your king?” he demanded.

“Yes, I do,” the Duke said calmly.

“Y’ shouldn’t worry ‘f you’re innocent,” I said, drawing a glare from the ambassador.  “Th’ King has an excellent trial system in place, y’ know.”

The Duke laughed and the ambassador made some empty threat that I can’t remember before stomping off in a huff, accompanied by a guard.  Then Sir Gareth said that the Healer was coming, and we were escorted off to a room far more pleasant than the dungeons for the night.

*   *   *

I had never seen a Healer at work before.  He mopped up the blood from the wounds on the Duke’s thigh and shoulder before using magic to close the cuts themselves.  After he was done, he gave the Duke a bottle full of pink liquid and ordered him to drink one spoonful each day for two weeks, or he would get a fever.

The room itself was not unlike the room I had shared with Sir Gareth at the Holly Branch Inn, except it easily accommodated three people.  The Duke fell asleep immediately when he fell into his bed.  I fell asleep a quarter of a candle later.  The last thing I saw was Sir Gareth, sitting on his bed and looking contemplative.

The trial did take place the next morning.  I won’t bother you with the particulars.  A lot of the proceedings, as the Duke called them, were boring and long.  I didn’t really understand what was going on at all, except that the Duke was in charge of our defense, and when he asked me questions, all I had to do was answer him truthfully, which was easy except when he asked what my occupation was.  Both the King and the Princess looked surprised to hear that I was a thief.  For the first time in my life, I was ashamed of my livelihood.  The Duke asked the Princess a lot of questions too.  In the end, by answering questions, the story of the Princess’ kidnapping was told in full.

At the end of the trial, the judge (a different one from the day before) declared us ‘not guilty’.  The Princess began to cry, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief and smiling happily.  The King looked relieved as he stood up and ordered that the next trial begin – the case of conspiracy against the country of Valen.  The Cadorian ambassador was the one on defense that time.

That trial was a lot shorter; the Duke said that was because they used the evidence from our trial.  Sir Gareth had to answer a few questions about what he found in the aide’s room, and I had to testify about the battle and what the kidnapper said to the Duke at the end of their fight.  This time the judge returned a verdict of ‘guilty’ and passed sentence, banishing the Cadorian ambassador from Valen.  The ambassador threatened a war; the King said ‘so be it’, drawing a cheer from most of the people in the courtroom.  The Cadorian ambassador stormed from the room.

After the trials were over, the King gave a long, complicated speech about politics.  You can read about it in any public square today, because it was published all over the country.  Basically, it states that Valen is going to war against Cador, which I suppose is a good thing.  Everyone who understands these things is happy.

The King also made a declaration regarding the Duke, Sir Gareth, and myself.  Tonight we are to have places of honor at his table, when he throws a pre-war banquet, or something like that.  I’m being given an entirely new outfit because my usual clothes obviously aren’t appropriate for a supper with the King.  And, I’ll be sitting next to the Princess.

So, that’s why I’m sitting here in this beautiful room, wearing silk clothes especially tailored for me, and just waiting for the tailor to come back so he can make sure they fit properly.  I told you it was a good story, didn’t I?

*   *   *

                “That’s ‘t,” Kellan told the scribe, sitting up from reclining on the pillows and brushing his short, dark brown hair from his sky blue eyes.  “Thanks for writin’ ‘t all down.”

The scribe stood and bowed.  “That’s my job, sir.  I’ll take this right down to the press.  What would you like it to by called?”

“Y’ mean I gotta name ‘t?”  Kellan winced.  “Uh … tell ‘em ‘s called ‘A Thief’s Tale’.  ‘S that okay?”

“If that’s what you want it to be called.”  The scribe bowed again.  “I’ll be going, now.  Have a wonderful time at the banquet, Master Kellan.”  He walked to the door; the page scrambled to his feet to open the door for him and close the door behind him.

Once the scribe had left, Kellan reclined on the bed again.  “Y’ know, I think I’m gonna quit thievin’ and become a Knight.”

“Excellent, sir,” the page bobbed from the doorway.

“You’d say that no matter what I jus’ said,” Kellan pointed out just as there was a knock at the door.  The page looked to Kellan questioningly.  “Er, let ‘im in.”

The page opened the door again, and Kellan sat up abruptly and smoothed his dark blue coat and ruffled shirt as another page ran in and announced, “Her Highness Medallion de Kalgrath, Princess of Valen!”  He bowed and shuffled out of the way to admit the Princess herself.

Kellan was visibly amazed by the Princess’ appearance.  She wore an elegant white gown with a full skirt and full sleeves.  Her hair was pulled back into a bun; vagrant curls framed her face as if sculpted to do so.  Pearls hung from her ears; a pearl necklace rested on her neckline.  Makeup made her pale face paler, bringing out the brown in her large eyes.  Kellan slid off the bed and bowed, wobbling a little.  He was obviously not used to the process.  “Uh, your Highness.  You’re absolutely th’ most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, ‘f y’ don’ mind my saying so,” he said, a flush rising in his cheeks.

The Princess smiled.  “Kellan, you say the sweetest things,” she answered, curtsying gracefully.  Kellan’s cheeks flushed darker.  “A page offered to come up and tell you to come down to supper, but I wanted to come myself.  I wanted to ask you to be my escort.”

Kellan blinked and stuttered, “O’ – o’ course!  I mean, I’d be honored.”  Kellan crossed the floor to the Princess’ side and offered his arm.  She took it, but not before leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.  Kellan blushed darkly.  “I-I never thanked y’ for your hairpin, y’ know.  It got us out o’ the dungeon so we could save th’ King.”

The Princess laughed.  “I’m glad that you could use it.  Kellan – thank you for saving me.” She rested her head on his shoulder.

Kellan instinctively guided her out of the room.  “Thanks t’ you, too, Princess.  Thanks t’ you, too.”

The page closed the door behind them.

the End

                “Oh, Kellan - did I mention that there is a ballroom dance after the banquet?”

                “A what?”

*   *   *

Author’s Notes:  I wrote this as an entry to a science fiction/fantasy contest.  I doubt it’ll win, but it was fun to write.  I’m also intending to turn it in to my teacher as a short story.  (Thank goodness for Writing Seminar!)

I got some questions about the time references, so let me clear things up quickly:  a candle is the equivalent of one hour.  Thus, the eleventh candle is eleven o’clock in the morning.  Since the candles are done in ‘military time’, the twenty-third candle is eleven o’clock at night.  Cycles are the equivalent of a year.  And for you Escaflowne fans, no, a moon is not one day – it’s one month.

There are a couple of loopholes that I’ve noticed after a few read-throughs – for instance, how did Sir Gareth get back his clothes when he was arrested?  (Heh heh.  Let’s just assume that the guard let him change before leading him out of the room.)  And why did the Princess know what Kellan intended to use her pin for, when the Duke didn’t?  It’s these little quirks that I don’t feel like fixing, so I hope you won’t harp on me for them.

I hope to have Kellan make a second appearance somewhere.  I really love his personality.  Like most good characters, he took on a life of his own by the second page.  I just followed him through the story, because it definitely wasn’t me doing the telling.  Kellan ran this fiasco from the get-go.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this work of fiction!  Please, please post reviews!  I love reviews.  Thanks for reading! ^^x

~~Vikki