“We’re ready,” Dewberry and the others agreed. Kestrel picked the still sleeping Jonson up, and then was transported to the palace of the imps.
When he arrived he immediately crouched down; his head just barely avoided hitting the ceiling of the room. He saw an expansive bed, by sprite and imp standards, and gently laid Jonson on the mattress. “His care is in your hands now,” Kestrel told Dewberry, “and I know he’ll be well tended.” He yawned.
“Let us take you home, dear,” Dewberry said, looking up from where she sat on the bed next to her husband.
“I left a couple of skins of healing water at the spring. Can we go there first and get them?” he asked, and so he was taken first to the side of the healing spring, and then back to Merilla’s bedroom.
“Leave us,” Dewberry said to the other sprites. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, as Kestrel looked at Merilla’s sleeping form, lying on her mattress beneath a thick cover.
“You have been such a good friend,” Dewberry told him, floating in the air directly in front of him, whispering in his ear. “If there is ever a way I can repay the debt I owe, even if it means giving up my own life for you, please let me know.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek lightly, and then she was gone.
“Who’s there?” Merilla’s voice called sharply.
“It’s me, Kestrel. I’m back,” he said wearily.
“Is everything okay with your friend?” she asked in a sleepier tone.
“His condition was grave, but I think he’s going to be okay now. It took quick action to save his life,” Kestrel answered. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the mattress, then picked up his shirt that had remained on the floor in his absence. Merilla had changed into a warm nightgown, one that covered her from neck to ankle, it appeared.
“We can never expect to be a couple,” Kestrel said as he pulled his shirt over his head. “As much as we care for each other, fate has decided to keep us apart.”
“I know Kestrel,” Merilla said softly. “But I hope we can still be friends.”
“I hope so too,” he answered. “Will you still go to the Doge’s palace with me?”
She appeared to hesitate, then answered. “Why not? Why not go with the hero of the city? Yes, I’ll go. Come pick me up at my father’s shop at the proper time.”
Kestrel bent and kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to leave now,” he told her, “and I’ll pick you up in the afternoon. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was crying, just as he felt a tear run down his cheek and drop on her head.
“Kestrel, here,” she pulled a paper-wrapped package from a bedside table. “It’s your shirt for tomorrow. Now travel safely on the way home, and make sure you close the door tightly when you leave!”
Kestrel gave a quick chuckle, then took his leave, walking through Estone’s blustery cold night on his journey back to his inn, a journey that came after a much different experience than he had anticipated. Four men were leaving the inn when Kestrel came within sight of it finally, travelers getting an early start on their day’s journey, while he had yet to get to sleep. He reached the main door, went inside, and wearily climbed the stairs.
His door was ajar. Kestrel felt suddenly alert, and he held his staff in readiness, as he stood outside his room. He pushed the door open with his staff, then cautiously peeked inside. The room had been torn apart, with his small supply of belongings scattered across the floor. He checked the hidden pocket of his pack, and found it cut open, with Silvan’s directions of how to write coded messages, and where to leave them, gone. His communications with Center Trunk were already compromised before he had even had a chance to use them.
It would be weeks before he even needed to use them, so there was no immediate loss, but it was a blow. He had an option, he realized; with Dewberry’s help, he could pass messages to Alicia, getting information to Center Trunk on an almost instantaneous basis. If anything, it dawned on him, the thieves may have forced Kestrel into a better form of communications.
Kestrel lit his room’s lantern from the one downstairs at the desk, then returned to his room and pushed the door shut, throwing the bolt securely in place, and sat on his bed. He thought back to the men he had seen leaving the inn as he arrived; could they have been the thieves who had plundered his room? He tried to remember them, and his memory painted their clothes in shades of deep red, the same as the Uniontown ambassador’s entourage, but he had no clear, reliable recollection. He couldn’t imagine why anyone from Uniontown would want to rob him, yet his instincts jumped to the conclusion that the robbery was the work of forces from Uniontown.
He kicked off his boots, still damp on the inside from the swamp water they had received while saving Jonson, and laid back on his bed. He felt exhausted, as the rush of adrenaline from the discovery of the burglary passed away, and before he knew it, he was asleep.
Chapter 31 — The Palace Reception
Kestrel awoke to the sound of banging on his door. “Sir? Sir? Will you be leaving us today, sir?” the innkeeper’s voice called.
“Just a minute,” Kestrel called groggily. He sat up and saw bright sunlight streaming in through his window, then staggered over to the door and opened it. “We’ll need to clean the room sir, if you’re leaving today,” the innkeeper said, as Kestrel kept the door cracked only inches open.
“I’ll pack up and be out in just a little bit,” Kestrel told him, then pushed the door closed again, and sat down on his mattress. He looked about the room, then stood again and quickly stuffed his belongings into his pack, strapped his weapons securely in place, then left the inn, and went to Castona’s shop.
“Someone broke into my room last night and stole my instructions for how to pass messages to Center Trunk,” he told the merchant.
“Did they learn any names?” Castona asked intently.
“No, no names, but they know the code I was supposed to use. Where I can I stay tonight that will be safe?” Kestrel asked.
“Why not stay at the palace?” Castona suggested. “Go ask the herald to assign a room to you, and you’ll have a suite. It’ll make it easy for you after the reception.”
Kestrel thanked his friend, and went to the palace gate, where he received prompt entrance, and was sent to wait in another parlor.
“How can I help you, young champion?” Moresond said as he entered the room.
“I’d like a place to spend the night, and I thought the palace would be safe, if you have a room I can use,” Kestrel answered.
“As a Captain of the Fleet, you are always welcome to use one of our guest suites, and as the Champion, I suppose we should have a specific suite reserved for you somewhere anyway. Follow me and we’ll set something up for this evening,” the herald replied. He led Kestrel to meet the steward, who in turn took Kestrel to a sunny wing of the palace with wide, high windows that allowed much sunlight to enter the hallway.
“Here is your room,” the steward and another servant announced as they opened a door at the end of the hall, and let him enter first.
His room was a suite of five rooms — a lobby, a sitting room, a dining room, and two bedrooms, plus a bath and a balcony patio. “Is this sufficient?” the steward asked. “We would have had better for you if we had known you were coming.
“This is more than I’ve ever had before,” Kestrel breathed. “Thank you,” he added. “This is perfect.”
“If you need anything, pull this cord,” the servant showed a cord that wrapped around a pulley and disappeared in a small hole in the floor. “This will alert the staff, and someone will come immediately.”
With that the two staff members discreetly departed, and Kestrel unloaded his goods. He removed his boots and placed them by the fire to dry. He went into the bathroom and started filling a tub with hot water, amazed at the pipe that delivered the hot water from some mysterious source, then soaked and relaxed in the tub. He decided to take full advantage of the palace amenities; he got out of the tub, and donned the robe that hung on his wall before he pulled the magical cord that brought a maid to his door within minutes. The young lady graciously agreed to deliver food to his room, and just a few minutes later he sat at the dining room table and ate a late lunch that was his first meal of the day.
