Tor slipped out of the castle, making sure he was not seen by any of his brothers, and made his way into the city. A family friend lived nearby and he wanted to make sure he was the first one to arrive on his doorstep.
He knocked on the door, stepping back in astonishment when he recognised the man who opened it. The person standing in front of him was elderly, of average height and build, but his grey eyes held a wisdom seldom seen in a human.
“Bellak,” Tor said in surprise. “What are you doing here so early?” He knew the wizard had been studying the owner of the house for a while, but had not expected to find him there so soon after sunrise.
“We worked late last night so Hurst let me stay over,” Bellak informed him. “Come in,” he continued, stepping out of the way so that Tor could enter the building. “We have just started breakfast. Have you eaten?”
Despite being a Prince, Tor hated being bowed to or called ‘your Highness’ and he was pleased that those who knew him well treated him as an equal instead of the son of their ruler. “No,” he admitted. “Not yet.”
Tor made his way to the dining room. He had been in the house many times, so he did not need to be shown the way.
Hurst heard footsteps approach and looked up as they entered the room, his unseeing eyes pointlessly searching for the newcomer’s face. Without speaking, Tor walked up to him and took his hand.
“Hello Tor,” the elderly man with long grey hair said, a smile forming on his face. “I will help in any way I can.”
Tor did not react to the comment. Hurst’s ability to read the mind of anyone he touched was the reason for his visit so early that morning. “Please, take a seat.”
Tor did as instructed and Bellak placed a clean bowl in front of him. While he ladled steaming porridge into it, he brought up the subject of the quest. Both men had heard about it and were eager to be one of the first people outside of the royal family to hear the first clue.
“So I am to be the ‘blind man who can read’,” Hurst stated once Tor had finished furnishing them with the details.
“If you are happy to come with me,” Tor confirmed. “Ellen and my mother’s maid will also be joining us and I am sure I will not be able to find a reason to leave Seth behind.”
“After all you and your father have done for me, how can I turn you down?” Hurst told him. “You have provided me with a home. So what will I have to do?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Tor confessed. “First we have to find out where we need to go.”
Bellak, who had been quietly listening in on the conversation, spoke up. “I may be able to help you there, if you give me permission to use the Royal Library. Something about that clue rings a bell. Do you have any objections to me accompanying you on your quest? It will give me the opportunity to study Hurst in different surroundings.”
Tor rubbed at his beard while he considered the question. While he had no problem with having Bellak along, he didn’t want to have too large a team, especially at the beginning. The fewer people you have with you, the easier it is to move about undetected. On the other hand, Bellak’s skills might come in handy.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I will be happy to travel with you. And Vicky, of course.” Tor knew that Bellak would never dream of leaving his wife behind.
Bellak beamed at him. “With your permission, I will go to the castle at once.”
Without waiting for Tor to respond, he left the room, leaving the Prince and Hurst alone to discuss travel arrangements.
As he had stated, Bellak went directly to the castle, where he had no problems gaining entry. He had been a regular visitor for most of his adult life and the guards knew him well.
He made his way to the second floor and through a wooden door on his left. The Royal Library, as it was formally known, was not large, but it did contain history books on most countries, so was a good place to start.
Two pairs of eyes looked up as he entered. Feeral and Manfred were both sitting at desks with their heads bowed over books.
“What are you doing here?” Manfred asked by way of greeting.
Bellak suppressed a groan. Of Tor’s eight brothers, Manfred was the one he liked the least. He was a short squat man, but full of muscles, which he liked to use on anyone he perceived to deserve it. He had a mean streak and was so unlike his father that Bellak often wondered about his true parentage.
Feeral was a complete contrast to his brother, being tall, thin and almost effeminate. His short, neatly trimmed hair, which matched his beard, was so black that Bellak wondered, not for the first time, if it was dyed.
“I am looking for some information on where Hurst grew up,” Bellak lied. “Tor gave me permission,” he quickly added before either brother had chance to tell him he was not welcome.
Feeral grunted. “I should have known he would get to the old man before I had chance,” he murmured to himself.
As neither man made any move to stop him, Bellak closed the door behind him and walked over to the shelves on the far side of the room. He knew the exact book he was looking for and, praying nobody had already removed it, quickly scanned the titles.
He could not see the volume he wanted, but when his eyes fell on a history of Hurst’s homeland he took it from the shelf. At least if any of the Princes came over to investigate further what he was up to he had evidence that he had not lied to them about his intentions.
Seeing titles relating to Mercia, Auxland and Janton, he grabbed those as well and put his collection on a nearby table. The more books it appeared he was looking at, the less likely it would be that anyone would know which ones were actually important.
He continued to scour the bookshelves, hoping that someone had just returned the desired book to the wrong location, but deep down he knew that was not the case. As he passed closer to Manfred he glanced surreptitiously at the titles of the books on his desk. He did the same as he walked behind the area where Feeral was working before returning to his own table.
He picked up one of the books at random and pretended to read through it. He had found the one he wanted; now he just needed to get hold of it.
An hour passed and still Bellak pretended to read, all the while wracking his brain for ways to obtain the tome he needed. He could see it clearly from where he was seated; it was sitting in the middle of a pile of books on one of the occupied desks, so far unread.
Frustration was beginning to set in when unexpectedly Feeral rose to his feet and stretched. “I am going for breakfast,” he announced.
Bellak watched his departing back until he had left the room, then he sprang forward and practically ran to the desk Feeral had just deserted. Moving the top three books from a pile, he grasped the fourth and drew it to him.
Smiling broadly, like a cat who had just eaten the cream, he clutched the leather-bound volume to his chest and returned to his desk.
As he neared Manfred, he glanced down at him, but the Prince was bent over a scroll, seemingly oblivious to his brother’s departure.
Suddenly Manfred’s leg shot out from under the desk, catching the front of Bellak’s shin and making him topple to the ground. The book he had been holding fell from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Before he could regain his feet he saw Manfred grab hold of it.
The Prince raised his eyebrows as he read the title. “I knew you were working for one of my brothers,” he told the prone wizard, bending over him so that he did not need to raise his voice. “I assume it is Tor, but it does not really matter. All that matters now is that I have the book you obviously think is important and I will be taking it with me to my room to browse at my leisure. I may return it when I have finished. Then again, maybe not.”
“What is going on here?” Tor’s gruff voice boomed through the room. Neither Bellak nor Manfred had heard him enter.
“Nothing that concerns you,” Manfred said calmly and walked away from Bellak, shoulder barging Tor out of his way as he passed him.
“Are you alright?” Tor asked as he helped Bellak to his feet.
“I am fine,” the older man assured him, rubbing his knee where it had come into contact with the stone floor. “Just a small bruise and a dented ego.”
“So what was so important about that particular book?” Tor enquired, looking at the door that his brother had neglected to close.
Bellak grinned at him mischievously. “Nothing. I just wanted Manfred to think there was.”
“Why?” Tor asked in confusion, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.
“Because Manfred had the one I really wanted.” The wizard grabbed the object he was after from the middle of a stack on Manfred’s desk and held it up to Tor.
“You really are a devious old man.” Tor could not keep the admiration from his voice.
Bellak returned to the table he had been occupying, sat down and opened the book. It appeared to be covered with purple velvet and was not especially large compared to most in the library.
Tor looked over his shoulder and tried to read the almost unintelligible black writing it contained. It took him a few minutes to realise it was not written in a language he could understand.
“Can you read that?” he asked in surprise.
Bellak, engrossed in the book, merely nodded his head.
Tor sighed. There was no point in remaining with the wizard if he could not help him in any way, so he said his farewells and departed.
Bellak did not notice him leaving. This was definitely the book that he needed, but he could not remember where in it he would find the part he wanted. He resigned himself to having to read the entire thing, made himself more comfortable and turned back to the first page.
Time passed, Princes came into the library, began their research, gave up and departed, and Bellak was oblivious to it all.
Hunger finally roused him from his perusal of the book and he was surprised to find a plate of food on the table in front of him. Who had delivered it or when he had no idea, but he happily tucked into the bread, cheese and slices of ham. As soon as he had finished he continued his reading.
The sun began to set and the room became dark, forcing Bellak to finally put the book down. He was nearly at the end, but so far he had not found the passage he was looking for. Maybe he had the wrong book. He shook his head. No. It was the right one; he was sure of it.
He was about to give up for the night and take the book home with him when the door opened and Tor walked in.
“I thought you might need this,” he stated, placing a lighted lamp on the table. “Any luck?”
“Not so far,” Bellak admitted. He opened the book once more then, just as Tor was about to leave the room, he called out to him.
“I have it,” he shouted in glee. “Read this.”
He handed the book over to the Prince and indicated with his finger which paragraph contained the vital information.
“Well?” he asked when he decided Tor had been given enough information to digest what the words were telling him.
He looked up into Tor’s frowning face and realised what the problem was.
“Sorry,” he apologised. “I forgot this was written in old Thaumian. Wizards are taught it as part of their training. In summary, it says that the braymen are the seekers of truth.”
Bellak beamed at Tor like a dog who had returned a stick to its master.
“Alright, so we now know we are looking for a group of people or a species called the braymen. What are they and where are they found?”
The smile fell from Bellak’s face. “I have absolutely no idea,” he reluctantly admitted.
Tor patted him on the shoulder. “It is a good start. Pack up for tonight and go home to your wife. You can start your search for the elusive braymen in the morning.”
Bellak unwilling did as Tor had advised and dejectedly walked through the city to his home. He had hoped to be able to start the journey in the morning, but he felt further away from knowing their destination now than he did when he first heard the clue.
Vicky was stirring a pot of stew over the fire when he entered their cottage.
“Hello old witch,” he said and kissed her forehead affectionately. It was a term of endearment rather than an insult and always made her smile.
“Hungry?” she asked. She was a short plump woman whose long grey hair matched her husband’s. The crows’ feet around her eyes looked like they were caused by a lifetime of laughter rather than old age.
Bellak shook his head. “Sit down,” he instructed. “I have a lot to tell you.”
“Me first,” she said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. She placed her hands in her lap and seemed so eager to tell him her news that he could not help smiling.
“Go ahead,” he conceded.
“We have a visitor,” she said eagerly.
Bellak suppressed a groan. The last thing he wanted was to have to make small talk and be polite with someone he probably did not want in his house.
A tall muscular man with long black hair and piercing yellow eyes walked into the room, making Bellak jump out of his seat in surprise.
“Nosmas,” he stammered. “What are you doing here?” He walked up to him and hugged him tight. Nosmas was the last person he had been expecting and was a welcome sight.
“Hello father,” the new arrival said, returning the hug. “I was passing through so I decided to pay a visit.”
Bellak was so overjoyed to see his son that all thoughts of the clue and the quest temporarily left his mind and the family spent the next hour happily catching up and reminiscing about old times.
Bellak’s despondent mood evaporated and it was with great reluctance that he brought up the matter which had made him feel so deflated earlier that evening.
He told his wife and son all about the quest and the first clue and they were both eager to help, until Bellak announced that he was going to be joining Tor.
“No,” Vicky said flatly when her husband informed her that she, too, would be partaking in the journey.
“Why not?” he asked, confused by her reaction. He had expected her to be excited about having an excuse to go travelling to places they had never been, using their brains to outwit other teams. “With us both assisting Tor, we are bound to win.”
“We have commitments here,” she protested.
“Nothing that cannot wait,” he contradicted. “Besides, I have to go if Hurst is. Or are you suggesting I give up studying his abilities?”
“Of course not,” Vicky snapped at him, angry that he would suggest such a thing. She knew how much his work meant to him.
“So it is decided,” Bellak stated, as though Vicky’s reply had been submission rather than denial.
“No, it is not.” She said each word slowly and deliberately, somehow managing to keep her temper under control. “Besides, Nosmas has just arrived. We cannot leave while he is with us.”
“Hold on,” Nosmas said, holding his hands up in front of him and shaking them defensively as he stepped backward. “Keep me out of this.”
“Actually,” Bellak agreed, “that is a good idea.” Vicky glared at him, her eyes full of suspicion. “He can come with us. Two wizards are always better than one.”
The gleeful look on her husband’s face made her want to throw something at him.
“No,” Vicky repeated. “None of us are going with Tor. This is not up for discussion.”
“Oh yes it is,” Bellak stated. “Everything we do is always discussed and agreed upon. You do not get to make this decision on your own.”
“Like you talked to me before telling Tor we would be joining him you mean,” Vicky retaliated.
“That was different. You were not around to ask at the time.” Bellak was genuinely confused by his wife’s attitude and could not understand what her objections were.
“That is unfair and you know it,” Nosmas interrupted. He had not witnessed many arguments between his parents and those few that he had he had managed to stay out of. This one, he felt, was going to be different.
“Why not sit down and talk this over sensibly? What are your objections?” he asked his mother in a reasonable tone.
“We have no right to interfere in the succession,” she said adamantly.
“We will not be interfering,” Bellak objected. “Do you honestly believe that Tor’s brothers will not be putting together teams to help them?”
Vicky remained silent, so Bellak continued. “Is it really so wrong to help a friend?”
“That is a bit of an understatement,” Nosmas pointed out. “You are asking her to give up her entire life for who knows how long. This quest might take years.”
“Yes, it might,” his father agreed. “Which is why I want my family with me.”
“You are asking too much,” Vicky protested.
Bellak shook his head. “What do we have that will not still be here when we return?” he asked, gesturing around him as he spoke.
“A home,” she replied quietly.
Bellak was not the only one to notice the undertone in her reply. Something else was bothering her.
“What is really the problem mother?” Nosmas asked.
She looked at her husband rather than her son when she finally spoke. “It will be dangerous. What if you do not come back? You asked me what would not be here when I return and the answer might be you, you old fool.”
Bellak laughed, in relief rather than amusement. “I am not that old yet. I can look after myself. And you. If Nosmas agrees to join us, what could possibly go wrong?”
“Lots,” she replied. She had a very high opinion of her husband’s abilities, and her son was showing signs that he would soon surpass his father, but she was much more of a realist than either of them. The journey could well be dangerous and Bellak needed to realise this.
Bellak stood up and walked around the kitchen, thinking about how to word what he wanted to say. He needed to convince Vicky to join them and to do that he would have to get his son on his side.
“Have you met Tor’s brothers?” he asked Nosmas.
“Some of them,” he replied.
“Which ones?”
“Brodin, Cirren, Vitkin. I have seen Petro around, but I do not think I have ever spoken to him.”
“What do you think of Cirren?” he enquired.
Nosmas shrugged his shoulders. “He is still young, but I am sure he will grow up to be a good and honest man.”
Bellak nodded. “Do you think he will make a good King?”
“One day,” Nosmas told him.
“But not yet,” Bellak finished for him. Nosmas nodded his head.
“What are you getting at old man?” Vicky asked suspiciously.
“Bear with me,” he requested. “Have you ever met Feeral?”
Nosmas shook his head, but Bellak knew Vicky had.
“He is a weak and ineffectual man,” Vicky told him. “He will ruin this country if he takes over the throne, even with his mother making most of his decisions for him.”
“My point exactly,” Bellak agreed. “What about Manfred? What are your opinions of him?”
“A vicious bully who needs to be taken down a peg or two,” Vicky replied.
“A good man to be King?” Bellak asked needlessly. Neither Vicky nor Nosmas bothered to reply.
Bellak felt he was winning them over so he continued. “While I am not saying that Tor will be the ideal King, we could do a lot worse. How would any of us feel if Manfred won the quest and none of us did anything to stop him? Surely, as citizens of Remeny, it is our sworn duty to do what is best for the country.”
Feeling his father had gone too far, Nosmas forced himself to interrupt him. “I am not a citizen of Remeny and, while you may live here, Thauma is still your homeland.”
“But Vicky is,” Bellak pointed out.
“Alright,” Nosmas conceded. “You have argued your point well. While I do not believe that our involvement is needed, I can understand your desire to help Tor. If he will have me, I will accompany you on this quest. At least for a while.”
“Thank you,” Bellak said sincerely. “Vicky?”
He knew he had won, but needed to hear her say the words. If not, if anything went wrong, she would claim she was forced into it and would blame him for everything.
“I will go with you,” she reluctantly said. “If only to keep the pair of you out of trouble.”
Bellak walked over to her, took her hand in his then kissed the back of it. “You will not regret this.”