Page 10 of Palaces and other Prisons
“Of course, sire. And the box humans on their way?”
Ul closed his eyes. The humans were technically guests. However, they did not know the rules of Felloi or speak the language. Nor were they criminals awaiting trial. “I want them to be housed securely but made comfortable.”
Ifer frowned. “Perhaps a tower suite, as it is easily guarded, yet provides suitable accommodation for guests of unknown standing. We do not want them reporting back that we housed them in a half-flooded cell.”
That was another thing on his list. The cells flooded with the tides, and so did the rock pools, meaning they were no longer safe for hatchlings. The public cave where the eggs were laid was unusable, though his hand was found during the attempted cleanup and egg retrieval. It had been burned in an odd kind of ceremony to farewell the dead eggs and his own body part, yet at the same time, it felt right, as if a king should share the loss with his people.
“The tower will be fine. It’s not as though those chambers haven’t been used to houseguestsbefore.” Though it had been decades since someone had lived there.
“I will have it prepared. If you intend to keep working, shall I have the kitchen send up some soup or a liquor and sweet?”
Ul stared at the papers. His arm throbbed, and his heart ached. He didn’t want to do more. “I will heed the healer’s warning and rest. Can you have her prepare a draft, so I do not wake every time I turn over?”
Ifer relaxed, his shoulders drooping as if he’d been resisting the urge to tell him to rest. “I will. This will all be here tomorrow.”
Ul sighed. He’d hoped that if he pushed, it would go away and things might go back to how they’d been, but that was a lie, so he could avoid the truth. Perhaps it was time he listened and rested.
A broken king couldn’t heal his kingdom.
CHAPTER 8
It was noon the next day when the strangers arrived at the palace and were brought before Ul. Not in the main hall where everyone in attendance could watch, but in his private chambers where he held more sensitive meetings. Which meant the room was quite crowded with two strangers, three guards, himself, and his secretary. The two strangers sat on the other side of the large wooden desk, facing him with wide, worried eyes.
They looked much like the humans who lived on the island. Although the man’s hair was dark instead of fair, and his eyes were brown, not blue. He was a curiosity and, according to the guards, had talked and tried to communicate the entire way to the palace. The woman had the blonde hair and blue eyes he was used to seeing on humans. And while they sat stiffly perched on the edge of their chairs, they appeared to be unharmed, as well as unarmed.
They also didn’t speak a word of Fellish.
Or any other language Ul was familiar with, including Tarikian, which was spoken by most of their trading partners. All he, or anyone, knew were the humans’ names. Their clothing was also strange, an ugly bright yellow shirt with silvery bandsand blue pants also with silvery bands. Dawson and Katrina both wore the same type of clothing. Was it a military uniform?
He wanted to ask about the box structure, but it was pointless as they didn’t understand him. So there he sat in his crown and fancy cloak with the fur trim and thulite clasp, which had the benefit of both hiding his injured arm and keeping him warm, ready to deal with the strangers, and there was nothing to be done.
Dawson frowned. He had bowed as if recognizing that Ul was the king, and had talked, introducing himself and Katrina, but like everyone else in the room, he was now silent. He glanced at the guards behind him as if worried about being in trouble, then pointed at the paper on the desk.
Ul nodded, and Ifer passed Dawson a square of paper and a stick of charcoal, which had been wrapped in cloth to keep his fingers clean. Dawson ran his fingertips over the paper and made a comment to Katrina, who also touched it and passed comment.
It irked him that he didn’t understand what they were saying.
Dawson drew a couple of boxes on legs, which Ul recognized, and then he drew a blob around the boxes. He glanced at Ul and pointed at the blob.
After a couple of heartbeats, Dawson drew some wiggles around the blob and tapped the blob.
“Do you think he is asking what the name of the island is?” Ul asked Ifer.
“If that’s not what he wants to know, I am not sure what he is trying to say. Shall I point to the map?”
“Please.”
Ifer walked over to the wall where a map of Felloi hung. He even pointed to the palace. Dawson nodded and tapped his blob.
“Felloi,” Ul said, pointing at the map on the wall.
“Felloi?” Dawson repeated. He tapped the wiggles around the blob. “North Sea.”
“That must be the name of the ocean in his language. We cannot spend the rest of the day drawing pictures and pointing at them. I think it best we end this here until we have learned their language,” Ul said.
“How would you like to proceed, Sire?” Ifer returned to standing a step behind him and to the side.
It was a job he should pass to others, but he didn’t want secondhand information. He wanted to be able to speak with the new humans and learn who they were and why their boxes had arrived on his island. “I will have Dawson follow me around.”
