tell a soul that that’s what we’re after, I’ll skin you and hang you from a banner pole.”
“The Silver Skull of Zorellin, but…”
“But nothing! You keep your mouth shut about it or I’ll have Talon pluck your eyes out.”
Just then Talon flew from his perch near the open window and landed on Phen’s outstretched arm. The hawkling was as tall as Phen’s arm was long, and he had taken a liking to the boy.
“Traitor,” Hyden said to his familiar. “I guess I have no choice but to convince your masters to let you come with me now that I’ve spilled the stew.”
“Spilled the stew?” Phen giggled. “You really are a bumpkin, Hyden. King Mikahl was right. I can’t believe you grew up in a place where people don’t ride horses and live inside dirt hills.”
“In the Giant Mountains, even in the spring and fall, you’d be glad to be inside a hill. And besides, the walls are made of stone, not dirt.” Hyden frowned into the mirror, not liking what he saw at all. “Blast this! It just doesn’t suit me.” He pulled the fancy wizard’s robe over his head, and then began stripping off the awful itchy woolen leggings that went with it. “Grab my kid-skin pants from the closet-the new black ones-and my old horsehide boots for me, would you Phen?”
“Sure.” Phen went into the other room and found the items. As he returned with them he asked, “Is it true, what they say you did to the High King and the Seaward Princess this afternoon?”
“I suppose that depends on what they say I did,” Hyden chuckled from behind the changing screen. “But if they say I lied to the pretty girl with promises of bear cubs, but showed her the High King’s sword instead, then yes, it’s true.”
Phen laughed deeply at that. “They’ll have you hanged for insolence or treason,” the boy managed between giggles.
“Nah, nah! High King Mikahl was my friend back when he was just Mik the Squire.” Hyden stepped from behind the blind in a pressed white shirt with ballooned sleeves that was tucked neatly into his leather pants. Unlike what the current fashion trends dictated, he wore the legs of his snug fitting pants over his boots instead of inside them. “Besides,” he continued. “I’m not from the kingdoms of men. I’m a human from the kingdom of giants. I am a free man here, and if I did have a king it would have to be King Aldar.”
“The cloak,” Phen offered his fashion advice. “Wear the black one with the silver flames along its edges.”
“That was Dahg Mahn’s cloak,” said Hyden. The idea of wearing it stopped him completely. For a long moment he just stood there contemplating. He rarely messed with the long missing wizard’s personal things. It just didn’t seem right. Yet to wear that cloak to this feast seemed to be the perfect thing to do. “All right then,” he nodded.
Phen was already up and bringing him the ancient garment. Hyden put the cloak over his shoulders, pinned it with a silver broach shaped like a diving hawk, then checked himself in the glass again.
He had mussed up his long black hair when he’d pulled the robes off. He started to brush it, but changed his mind and instead tied it back behind his head with a silver wire. He gave the mirror another look and decided that there was only one thing missing. He reached into his shirt and pulled forth the silver medallion that he always wore around his neck. The brilliant tear-shaped jewel mounted in it sparkled at his collar. Finally, Hyden decided, he was ready.
Talon cawed out his approval of the look.
Phen nodded as well. “Not so bad, for a bumpkin, I mean.”
“Keep an eye on that boy, Talon,” Hyden said to his hawkling with a grin. “He’s as sharp as a iron orb.”
As soon as the door closed behind Hyden, Phen sat Talon back on his stand and started rummaging through the piles of books at the study table. He would know everything he could about the Silver Skull of Zorellin by the end of the night. Little did he know, that was exactly what Hyden Hawk intended.
Later, at the gathering, Hyden gawked openly at the size of the arms on Princess Rosa’s two guardsmen. They were huge. Each bicep was as big as Hyden’s head. Both men wore spiked and studded boiled leather armor vests that weren’t just for show. Each of them carried long, well used swords at their hips too. Studded gauntlets and knee-high hard leather boots finished the uniform, save for their long blue cloaks with the orange setting sun of Seaward emblazoned on the back. As were most of the men of Seaward, these two were baldheaded, and covered with tattoos-one giant tattoo actually.
One of the guards had what looked like a bird’s beak that started between his eyes and bent backwards over his head. Hyden had seen the same style on a lot of Seawardsmen. Feathers started where his hairline should have been, and strange yellow eyes were inked in over his ears. The other had a simpler design of lightning streaks jagging back from his temples and forehead. The man reminded Hyden of Loudin the hunter. Loudin’s tattoos had been of tiger stripes, and he had been as fierce as any wildcat there ever was.
The Princess was beautiful. Her dress was a rosy color, with crimson and sea-blue trim. It set off her eyes and the jewels on her dainty wire crown. The dress was less shapely than the one she’d worn earlier in the day, but it revealed more of her ample cleavage. A thumb-size sapphire had been cleverly hung around her neck. It rested perfectly at the top of the deep line her breasts made. At her side was an older woman. Hyden thought he heard someone say she was an aunt.
Queen Willa looked regal and beautiful in a powdery blue gown. Her little blue-skinned pixie friend Starkle fluttered around her head like a butterfly, giving her an unearthly, surreal appearance. To further the look, at either side of her was a dwarf. Dugak was on her right, and his wife Andra was on the queen’s left. They were dressed in a darker shade of blue that was trimmed in lavender. Though her expression didn’t show it, Hyden knew that Queen Willa would have rather been wearing her studded leather girdle over her chain mail. And Dugak would surely have rather been drinking in the cellars, for if you wanted to find him for anything, most of the time that was where you would go. Queen Willa smiled brightly at Hyden when she saw him. He smiled back and made a cringing funny face. She was forced to feign a cough to hide her laugh.
King Jarrek wore the deep black shades of mourning, trimmed in blood red. He was making a statement for the Princess to carry home to her mother. “My kingdom was destroyed,” the look said. “My people are now slaves. Will you just sit there and do nothing?” Jarrek’s expression was stern behind his dark bangs and beard, and the fierce determination in his eyes added a perfect exclamation point to his attire.
Then came the High King. Hyden had to shake his head in wonder as the court announcer called out his lengthy title. “I give you High King Mikahl Collum, the Uniter come again, the King of Kings, the wielder of Ironspike, and Defender of the Realm…” and so on for a full two minutes. Mikahl looked the part too. Layers of emerald and forest green, all trimmed in gold, were draped over him, and a fur scarf made from what might have actually been a lion’s mane gave him the appearance of a young, golden crowned lion’s cub. The emerald-eyed lion’s head medallion that King Aldar had hand carved out of dragon bone hung proudly around his neck. He looked the part of a mighty king, in all his splendor, but the look on his face was pinched. Mikahl despised this sort of pomp and ceremony.
Hyden knew without a doubt that with only a few words he could create a scene here for the ages to remember, but he held his tongue for the sake of Queen Willa and King Jarrek. To begin rebuilding in earnest, they needed Seaward’s aid badly. Hyden was sure that was the only reason his friend Mikahl was suffering through this farce as well.
When King Mikahl’s eyes landed on Princess Rosa, it was hard to say which one of them blushed a brighter shade of crimson. After a moment, both sets of eyes found Hyden. All Hyden could do was shrug and grin. High Wizard Sholt saved him from their glares by handing him a goblet of Valleyan honey wine and engaging him in conversation.
“The only two things Valleyans can do well are raise horses and make wine,” the middle-aged man said. He was wearing the high collared, black-trimmed, white robes of his station. The master wizard kept his beard in a neat goatee, but his wild graying hair always seemed to be in disarray. “In fact, it’s the only two things they do at all,” he continued. “It amazes me that King Broderick is pleading for exoneration for his great mistake, but is too afraid to ask to be forgiven in person.”
“Would you want to face King Mikahl and that sword of his?” Hyden asked. He hated politics, but liked Master Sholt. “Or what about Willa the Witch? Would you like to have to face her after sacking two of her cities?”
“Nay, sir, I would not, on either count,” agreed Sholt with a forced chuckle.
“You will allow Phenilous to continue tutoring me while I’m on expedition, I hope,” suggested Hyden. His words hadn’t been framed as a question, more like a subtle order.
