The Sorceress of Belmair

“Indeed, Your Majesty, I did,” Gara replied. “And I will serve you personally with every ounce of my skill and loyalty. I shall put Prentice on my list of important personages immediately.”

“Thank you,” Dillon replied, smiling. “Now I shall go to the scholar and see what it is he had found for me.” He left his library. Gara, mollified, carefully scribbled Prentice’s name into a small book upon his desk. Out of sight of his secretary Dillon swirled his cloak and directed his magic to the scholar’s chambers. Stepping from the shadows, he greeted him. “Good morrow, Prentice. I have just now been informed of your message. Such a delay will not happen again.”

“Your Majesty!” Prentice jumped, slightly startled by Dillon’s appearance, but he realized he would have to get used to such comings and goings. The king did have the blood of the Shadows in his veins. “No, no, I understand. You have been given Gara for your secretary. A good man, but his name does mean mastiff, and he will guard you carefully from what he considers unimportant distractions,” Prentice said wryly.

Dillon laughed. “He has added your name to his list of important personages.”

The scholar barked a sharp laugh. “How it must have galled him.” He chuckled. “I do not believe, Your Majesty, that I have ever been considered a personage of import.”

“What have you found?” Dillon asked him.

“I sought out from our archives histories from our furthest known past,” the scholar said. “And within I found two small references to the wicked ones. Both said virtually the same thing. That the wicked ones had been told to depart Belmair. There is nothing else. No explanation of who these wicked ones are, or why they were told to leave or if they did.”

“Are you certain these two references do not refer to those sent to Hetar?” Dillon questioned the scholar.

“Those histories themselves were written at least two centuries before that event took place, Your Majesty,” Prentice replied. “However, there is a locked room hidden somewhere within the archives that is forbidden to us all. Byrd would have the key to that room, for it is passed down from one head librarian to the next. If I could gain access to that room perhaps I might find the answers you are seeking.”

“I shall speak with Byrd, and have him give you the key then,” Dillon said. Then stepping into the shadows of the scholar’s chamber, he directed himself to where the elderly head librarian sat behind his desk. “Good morrow, Byrd,” Dillon spoke.

The old man looked up. He had been concentrating upon a book, and his hearing no longer good, he had not observed Dillon’s arrival. “Your Majesty!” He stood politely.

“You hold a key to a locked room within your archives,” Dillon said. “I should like that key, and then you will take Prentice and me to that room.”

“Your Majesty, I will gladly give you the key,” the old man said, and he carefully extricated an old-fashioned brass key from the large key ring attached to his rope belt, handing it over to Dillon, “but I cannot take you to the room because I do not know where it is.”

“How can you not know where it is?” Dillon asked him. “You have a key. Did not your predecessor tell you where it was when he passed the key on to you?”

“My predecessor did not know where the room was, nor did his predecessor, and so forth back many, many generations, Your Majesty. The key has been passed down to each of us holding this post at the Academy, for it is tradition that the head librarian hold the key to the forbidden room, but no one has ever known where the forbidden chamber is. That, too, is tradition.”

“Are you even certain it exists?” Dillon asked Byrd.

“Of course it exists. I have the key to it,” the old head librarian replied.

Dillon didn’t know whether to laugh or to weep at Byrd’s answer. Thanking him, he returned to Prentice’s rooms by more conventional means in order to have a few moments alone to think it all through. Entering the scholar’s abode, he told him of his conversation with Byrd. Prentice did laugh out loud at the old man’s assurances that even though no one knew where the room was that it did exist because he had the key. Dillon joined him in laughter, and they sat down together over two cups of strong tea.

“Come with me into our archives, Your Majesty,” Prentice said.

“Perhaps two sets of eyes can find the door to this room.”

Together the two men went to the archival chamber, but although they searched and searched for several long hours, they could find no evidence at all of a hidden chamber. They finally returned to the scholar’s cozy chambers.

“I wonder now myself if this room exists,” Prentice said.

“It exists,” Dillon said certain. “A head librarian in your distant past filled that room with books he did not want scrutinized by just anyone. He locked the door to that chamber, and the key has been past down ever since. I do not believe this is a myth, Prentice. But somewhere along the line, that room was enchanted and concealed by means of magic. It can only be found by magic. I will need more help than Cinnia or the dragon can give me, for this is special magic that was worked to hide that room. I will call upon my father and ask that he send my uncle, Prince Cirillo of the Forest Faeries to me. Cirillo and I are of an age, and we were raised together in my father’s palace of Shunnar where we studied the strongest magic. Together he and I can find this chamber, and then, Prentice, we will unlock its secrets!” Dillon stood, and with a swirl of his cloak he disappeared.

The scholar ran a bony hand through his graying red hair. The young king was quite interesting and intelligent. And his interest in Prentice had already drawn the curiosity of several of the more important scholars at the Academy. In time, he thought, I shall be vindicated, and others will see that my studies of our ancient past are not foolish. And now he would meet a faerie prince. Prentice wondered if there had ever been faeries in Belmair. Until now he had never considered it.

Dillon returned to his library. “Permit no one to disturb me,” he told Gara. Seating himself by the fireplace, he said silently, Father, I need you. Several moments later Kaliq appeared from the shadows in the room. Rising to greet his sire, Dillon embraced him, and without any preamble said, “I need Cirillo. Can you bring him to me? Or must I return to Shunnar and meet with him there?”

“I can bring him,” Kaliq said, “but whether your grandmother will allow it is another thing. You know he is her heir, and she dotes upon him. Then, too, there is the fact that I doubt your mother had gotten around to telling her yet of your good fortune. Why do you need him?”

“I have set a scholar from the Academy to work attempting to learn if there was once magic in Belmair. He found two small references to wicked ones who were told to depart Belmair. It was two centuries before the Hetarian exile, so we are certain it does not refer to that. There is a locked chamber in the Academy archives with forbidden books. The old head librarian possesses a key to it, but no one can find the room. My scholar, his name is Prentice, and we have looked ourselves. It is obvious to me that the room was hidden by faerie magic. Cirillo was also very good at solving puzzles when we were boys together. I will wager he can find that room.”

Kaliq nodded. “Aye, faerie magic can be quite convoluted when they wish to hide something. I would be interested to know why they wanted the room with the forbidden books hidden. The answer to that may actually be the answer you seek. I will ask your mother to intercede with Ilona for us.”

“You’ve told her then,” Dillon said, “and yet you live, my lord.”

The Shadow Prince laughed heartily. “Aye, I’ve told her. She kept castigating me for deciding your future, and reminding me that you were her son. When I told her you were my son, too, she was even angrier at first, but eventually she overcame her ire. Of course it is not something she will tell your stepfather. It seems after all these years he is still jealous and wary of me,” Kaliq said, amused.

Dillon laughed, too. “Aye, when I lived with them in Terah, Magnus was never certain when you would suddenly appear from the shadows, and come into their life again.” He engaged the Shadow Prince with a look. “You will always love her, won’t you, my lord? My mother is your weakness, I fear.”

“I will always love her,” Kaliq agreed, “but believe me when I tell you she is not my weakness. If she were, you would have been born several years earlier, and lived an entirely different life. Loving her as I do I could still let her go. But we are not discussing your mother, Dillon. I will return to Shunnar immediately and see how we may arrange for Cirillo to join you here in Belmair. How is your sorceress wife?”

“Her powers are small, but eventually I will teach her so she may be stronger,” Dillon replied. “Right now I am educating her in the ways of passion. She is reticent, for they do not speak of love in Belmair. She is less reserved with me now than several days ago,” he said with a smile.