Page 86 of Kingdom of Feathers

“Well then, Your Majesty,” said Lord Baldwin, with an edge of desperation, “perhaps you could give me leave to remain in Entolia.”

Basil frowned at him. “You don’t wish to join me? I never forced you to come to Myst, My Lord. You volunteered, remember?”

“I know I did, Your Majesty,” said Lord Baldwin. “But I didn’t expect to be gone so long from my holdings, and to be frank, after seeing that mine, I have no desire to be mixed up in whatever’s brewing. I would be grateful if you would give me leave to return home.”

Basil considered him with a frown. A week ago he would have granted Lord Baldwin’s request with a good grace, but something made him pause.

“I’m afraid I’m not willing to give you leave,” he said bluntly. “I expect you to return to Myst with me, and see out our visit.”

Lord Baldwin looked crestfallen, but he made no further attempt to argue.

The soldiers at the Mistran checkpoint didn’t look excited to see the Entolians, but they made no attempt to hinder their passage. If nothing else, it was encouraging that Wren’s return from the Entolian camp hadn’t triggered the Mistran general to bar Basil’s entry.

Basil had hoped for further speech with Wren, but he soon discovered that she was closely guarded. He still hadn’t heard the full story of how she’d ended up in the tunnel all alone, but he could only assume that her disappearance had thrown her companions into a panic. Having ascertained that she was still in the camp, closeted in the largest tent on site, he had nothing to do but pass the night in an uneasy rest of his own.

In the morning, Wren’s guardians were no more inclined to let Basil get near her than they had been in the evening. He did see Lady Anneliese coming and going from the princess’s tent, and he debated hailing her. She was being courted by Sir Gelding, wasn’t she? Should he warn her of their suspicions regarding the enchanter? Unsure of how deeply Wren trusted her, he decided to hold his peace. Surely Wren would tell her friend if she wished to.

Basil had expected Sergeant Obsidian to arrive early in the morning, but it was past noon when the young soldier finally appeared. Fortunately the Mistran group hadn’t departed yet, although Basil wasn’t sure what they were waiting for.

The sergeant had a good reason for his tardiness. He had spent most of the night patrolling the mines, and was able to give Basil a full report. From what the Mistran forces had discovered, the mine seemed to be fully empty for the present. Whoever was excavating it must be doing so in shifts, rather than constantly. The soldiers had explored many of the tunnels, and had followed them all the way to secret entrances, hidden well beyond the boundaries of the battlefield. Obsidian’s presence had clearly been valuable—he’d been able to confirm that these entrances were protected by powerful cloaking enchantments, preventing anyone from discovering them from the outside who hadn’t already passed through the tunnels.

Shortly after Sergeant Obsidian arrived, Basil received a different report, this one from the Entolian enchantress whom he’d left behind with Wren.

“Well,” he said dryly, once he’d heard the details of Wren’s exploits, “I’m no longer surprised she’s being held captive by her own guards. They must have had heart failure when she disappeared into that tunnel.”

The enchantress nodded. “There was quite a scene, Your Majesty. To tell the truth, I was detained myself until she reappeared.”

“I’m sorry I put you in that position,” said Basil with a grimace. “And I’m relieved they let you out when she returned.”

“She wrote an epic on that slate of hers,” smiled the enchantress. “I didn’t see it, but she won them over. I didn’t really blame them for being angry with me. I was terrified myself when the tunnel collapsed. I suspect her protective artifact saved her, but it didn’t seem that the general knew about that. I suppose there’s no way to hide something like that from people who actually live in the castle, but it seems it hasn’t been widely advertised.”

Basil nodded. “I’m sorry to ask it of you,” he said, his gaze encompassing the enchantress’s husband as well, “but are you willing to return to Myst with me?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said the merchant. “We want to see this through.”

Basil nodded gratefully.

“But if you’re wanting to travel with the princess’s group,” the enchantress chimed in, “I suspect you’ll have to wait a little while. Unless I’m mistaken, the Mistrans sent for reinforcements the moment the princess arrived at the camp, and they’re making her wait until some of the king’s guards arrive.”

When the day wore away into evening, with still no sight of Wren, Basil didn’t doubt the enchantress’s guess. He toyed with the idea of getting a head start back to Myst, but decided it was best to wait for Wren, even if they weren’t going to be given the chance to actually interact.

“Are those swans some kind of guardians for the princess?” Sergeant Obsidian asked, as the small group of Entolians shared a simple meal around one of the Mistran campfires.

Basil followed the sergeant’s gaze upward, to where two swans were circling around the large tent in the center of the camp. Their presence, more than anything else, had convinced Basil that Wren was still on the site.

“I think they are, in a manner of speaking,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

The sergeant frowned. “I can’t really tell what’s going on from this distance, but there’s some kind of magic around them. I wondered if they’d been enchanted to follow her, or something.”

“Is that possible?” Basil asked, intrigued.

Sergeant Obsidian shrugged. “If you have the right kind of power. I don’t think anyone can control animals with the certainty one might control plants, for example. But some enchanters can influence them.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” mused the merchant enchantress, her eyes also on the swans. “There’s definitely something strange about them, though, isn’t there? I’ve never been up very close to them. They always fly away when we approach.” She gave a chuckle. “They’re as suspicious of Entolians as the rest of Mistra is. But even from here, I can sense some kind of magic around them.”

Basil was giving the conversation only cursory attention, his thoughts having dropped to the occupant of the tent below the swans. Did she know he was out here, waiting for her? Was she still upset with him for what had happened in the tunnel? He wasn’t even sure whether she was annoyed with him for pulling back, or for trying to kiss her in the first place. All he knew for certain was that when they’d parted, she’d barely been able to look him in the eye.

Half a dozen members of the royal guard arrived early the next morning, and in an impressively short time, the group from Myst were all ready to depart. The Entolians, although receiving no invitation, gathered in readiness as well. The captain of the royal guards acknowledged Basil’s presence with appropriate respect, but his gaze was heavy with suspicion as it rested on the young king. Basil had no doubt that he’d been given a report of Wren’s adventure over to the Entolian side of the battlefield, and that he didn’t plan to let the foreign king near his charge.

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