Kingfisher(47)

He turned away. The knights began to drift toward their chairs. The seneschal lingered, regarding Pierce with mystification.

“You can’t wear that at the king’s table,” he stated, then queried Leith silently.

“He’ll stay with us,” Leith said, “of course.”

“I have clothes in my pack,” Pierce said.

“I doubt you brought much that would be suitable here.” He crooked a finger with distaste, slid the pack strap from the back of Pierce’s chair. “You’ll find this in Sir Leith’s rooms. Along with clothing more appropriate to your status.”

He ended that with a curl of a question in his voice. Pierce considered the matter blankly, having no idea either.

Mystes Ruxley called the Assembly to order again, and Pierce sat with his father on one side of him, his brother on the other, and himself so full of astonishment at his sudden wealth of breathing, shifting family surrounding him that not a word from magus or mystes, knight or king penetrated.

Later, he sat clothed in finer and more formal textures of black, again between his father and his brother, his eyes and throat powder-dry, his fork making ineffectual movements over his plate, never quite touching what the silent servers had placed upon it. The wyvern, the magus, and most of the wyvern’s children filled the rest of the circular dais table. All of them, even the king, assumed that Pierce’s path led back out of the palace door in quest of some mythical whatnot made by the sun or the moon, he couldn’t remember which or find a single reason under either why he should care.

The magus, Lord Skelton, was not helping any by picking things at random out of Pierce’s head.

“‘All-You-Can-Eat Friday Nite Fish Fry’?” he said abruptly, staring at Pierce, and putting conversation on hold around the table. “That’s where you got your kitchen knife?”

Pierce felt Val’s silent tremble of laughter.

“What’s a fish fry?” the king asked Pierce with interest. “And why do you, Lord Skelton, think that a knife has anything to do with finding Severen’s sacred artifact?”

The magus, his foggy eyes enlarged and luminous behind his lenses, answered, “It is part of an ancient ritual. He recognized that. Wherever it was.”

The wyvern’s eye caught at him then, transfixed him. “Where did you see the ritual?”

“I didn’t—I—” he stammered, and felt his father’s light, reassuring touch above his elbow. “My lord, it was at a bar and grill. In Chimera Bay. A sort of diner. They served fish. All kinds of seafood.”

“Deep-fried in Severen’s pot, I’ll bet,” the king’s second son, Prince Ingram, said irrepressibly. He shifted under the weight of the wyvern’s regard. “Sorry, sir.”

“I take it,” the king said to him mildly, “you are not drawn to this quest?”

“No. I mean, yes, I am. I wasn’t so much at first, until Niles Camden inspired me. He’s gathering a group of us he calls Knights of the Rising God. He used to be an acolyte in Severen’s sanctum, when he was young, and was very torn, he explained, between the two callings when he decided to become a knight. That’s why he takes this quest so seriously. His idea is to find the holy artifact and use it to proclaim Severen’s ultimate power over Wyvernhold.” He paused to cut a bite of meat, oblivious to his father’s sudden stillness. “He wants to separate us into various groups, some to search the headwaters of the Severen, others to the more important sanctums across the realm, maybe another to stay here and search Calluna’s cave. Anyway, after we find the artifact, the worship of Severen will be the dominant sacred force over this kingdom.” He raised the bite to his lips, then became aware of the silence around him. His eyes flickered from face to face; he put down his fork. “What? What did I say?”

“Beyond threatening to offend every other ancient god and goddess in this land?” the king said dryly. “None of you seem to have listened at all to Lord Skelton.”

“I tried,” Ingram said earnestly. “I really did.” He looked at Lord Skelton, who was tugging one mustache and gazing incredulously at him. “I didn’t really understand much of what you said. Niles put things much more simply.”

“He won’t find it,” Lord Skelton predicted abruptly. “None of you will, with your hearts blinded with power.”

Prince Ingram flushed, but said doggedly, “I’m sure you’re right, Lord Skelton. But there’s no reason we can’t look anyway.”

The king’s eyes moved to Leith. “You’ll go, of course.” It sounded to Pierce like both a command and a plea. “And your sons?”

“Yes, my lord,” Val answered eagerly, for them all. “We can travel together to this mysterious Friday Nite Fish Fry.”

I just got here, Pierce protested silently.

Leith opened his mouth, then closed it, and gave Val a quick, warm smile. “I yield to my son’s fervor and to your bidding, my lord. I doubt that I’d recognize such a complex object, but at least we can promise not to disturb even the slightest of the old powers in this land.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Lord Skelton warned. “Wandering around in the realm in search of its oldest power is liable to cause all kinds of disturbances and consequences. There were always unexpected dangers on those early quests.” He sipped wine and added more cheerfully, “Very colorful, sometimes deadly, often mysterious, random, occasionally verging on the ridiculous. No quest was ever safe. They exist to reveal.”