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Klel’s shelter had a stone back wall, wooden rafters and a straw roof. Widely spaced wooden poles held up the roof around two sides, which made it look like a cage. Klel was curled up in the corner, his nose tucked under his tail.
You come? Klel’s voice was light and musical. He raised his blunt snout towards Toby and his startling green eyes shone brightly.
“Dragons don’t talk,” Marc muttered without opening his eyes.
“Marc is sick, can you help him?” Toby whispered in case someone was near enough to hear.
Toby had never brought anyone to see Klel before but he knew the dragon would help if he could. When Toby was just a small boy he had fallen very ill in the night. Aggie, fearing that Toby would not survive the night, had tried to rouse the healer but he refused to come. She had taken him down to Klel’s shelter and asked the dragon to heal him. Klel saved Toby’s life that night and Toby’s earliest memory was of being held in the golden dragon’s embrace.
Klel rose into a crouch and moved closer. Did he see healer?
“Yes,” Toby told his friend.
Klel leaned over Marc, nudging him gently with a clawed foot.
Wake up, lad, Klel ordered.
“Dragons don’t talk!” Marc opened his eyes and stared at Klel.
He showed a total lack of fear and Toby was impressed. Klel may not be very big, about the same size as one of the king’s horses, but to wake up with him an inch away from your face was scary enough.
When last eat, lad? Klel asked, ignoring Marc’s denial of the obvious.
“I’m not worth eating.” Marc shuffled out of Klel’s immediate reach.
Don’t want eat you, Klel snorted and swung his head towards Toby. What rubbish told him?
“None,” Toby defended himself calmly. “Rumours in the town have you eating naughty children and breathing fire all day.”
They do? Klel’s eyes widened and his eye ridges rose several inches. Why?
“To scare children into being good I guess.” Toby shrugged his shoulders. “Aren’t you going to heal Marc?”
Nothing to heal, Klel said bluntly as he backed into his sleeping corner again.
“Nothing?” Toby looked from Klel to Marc who looked about to faint again.
Used to breathe fire! Could burn greenfruit off tree, fifty paces. Much further than brothers. Klel seemed to have slipped back in time as his eyes glazed over to a light yellow.
“Why can’t you now?” Marc leaned forward to stare hard at Klel.
They took my band away. Klel’s eyes snapped back to brilliant green and he snorted loudly.
“Your band?” Toby prompted. Klel had never spoken of this band before.
My band... is who I am... where I belong... Klel replied with a proud, angry voice and his eyes turned a dull orange colour.
Toby knew that Klel was getting cross. He may not breathe fire but his tail could sweep your feet off the ground and send you flying across the courtyard.
Leave, Klel muttered.
“So I’m healed?” Marc looked unsure as he tried to keep his balance.
Nothing to heal. Try eating. Klel gave them one last snort before he turned several times on the spot and settled himself to the floor, tucking his nose under his tail.
“Come on Marc, we’d better go,” Toby said and helped Marc to his feet.
Used to breathe fire, Klel muttered as pale golden lids closed over his eyes.
Toby paused at the entrance to the shelter, scanned the quiet courtyard and frowned as there was still no sign of any guards. He didn’t want to be caught but it made him angry that they weren’t doing what they were supposed to, protecting Klel and everyone else in the castle.
Putting one arm around Marc, Toby helped him over into the shadows at the edge of the courtyard. They crept around the walls until they reached the wooden door. It wasn’t until they slipped back inside that Toby spoke.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were hungry?” Toby almost accused him.
“I couldn’t pay for any food. Besides I ate several days ago,” Marc replied matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s never hit me like this before and I’ve gone twice as long without food many times.”
“You have?” Toby wondered what it was like to go hungry. Growing up in the castle he had never once gone without a meal, unless he was naughty.
“Gran didn’t have a lot of food and my little sister cried herself to sleep all the time so I started giving her my food as well,” Marc explained. “Where do we go now?”
“Good question.” Toby frowned as they walked deeper into the castles corridors.
These were the corridors used by the servants to move around the castle without the royals or their guests knowing they even existed. So where could they go? Toby knew his old room had been taken by another boy and he could hardly turn up to share Aggie’s room with Marc in tow.
“Don’t you have a room?” Marc queried as he stopped to rest against the wall.
“I...” Just then Toby remembered that he was taking over Rane’s duties, which meant he got Rane’s room too. “Of course I have a room.”
Several minutes later Toby had shown Marc to Rane’s old room and given him another candle.
“I’ll come back with some food soon. There’s bound to be stacks of leftovers from the banquet,” Toby promised as he gently closed the door.
He’d been gone a long time and Aggie was bound to be cross with him but he detoured around the kitchen and headed up to the dining hall. The first thing he had to do was get Marc some food.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING TOBY arrived at the king’s private eating room in a rush. Aggie wasn’t in the kitchen today so he was under the orders of the head cook, Claris. Claris could bellow louder than the Master Groomer and she was lightning fast with a wooden spoon.
He had scored double duty for his absence last night. Not only did he have to serve down in the main dining hall but up at the king’s private eating room as well. That meant rushing from one to the other several times to keep the cups full and tables cleared as soon as possible.
King Herat, Queen Lisan and Prince Rory were still eating so he stepped quietly to the side of the room to wait for them to finish.
Prince Rory, a quiet man in his early twenties, was eating slowly and gazing out the window. He looked as if he wished he were somewhere else. Queen Lisan, a tall woman with long, straight black hair, was trying to engage her husband in conversation but he was ignoring her as he gave his full attention to the food before him. He looked like he had never gone hungry as his stomach was straining the shiny gold buttons on his bright blue jacket. It was a colour that most people with flaming red hair would avoid but King Herat wore it often.
A tall thin man with a pinched expression entered the room and approached King Herat.
“Ah, my schedule for the day,” the king muttered through a mouthful of bread as he took the offered parchment. Vern, the Chief Clerk, took several steps back while the king looked at it.
“Rory, I want you to come to this morning’s court session.” King Herat spoke to his son without looking up.
Prince Rory did not reply and the king finally looked up
“Rory!” the king shouted and Prince Rory blinked as he brought his attention, seemingly reluctantly, back to his surroundings.
“Pardon father, I didn’t hear you,” Prince Rory said so quietly that Toby only just caught his words.
“You haven’t attended the court sessions in over a week. It is inexcusable for the heir to the throne to avoid his responsibilities.” The king banged his clenched fist on the table and several cups almost overturned.
“But father I dislike the need to punish people,” Prince Rory almost pleaded with his father.
“Maybe Rory is right.” Queen Lisan spoke up for her son. “Punishment isn’t the only answer.”
“Enough!” The king bellowed and thumped the table again. This time several cups tipped their contents onto the table and Toby raced forward to mop it up. “You will be there Rory or I will have you dragged there.”
“Yes father,” Prince Rory replied distantly and turned back to the window, eating without really noticing what he was doing.
The king stood up so quickly that his chair fell backwards, almost hitting Vern. Immediately the queen and Prince Rory put down their spoons. Nobody ate once the king had finished. King Herat thrust the parchment back at his Chief Clerk and strode angrily from the room. The queen and her son rose too and left quietly, leaving just Toby in the room.
“What ya doing?” hissed a voice from the doorway. Max, another serving lad, came into the room. “Claris sent me up to see what’s holdin’ you up.”
“They’ve only just finished,” Toby defended himself as he hurried forward to start clearing the table.
“And don’t think I’m going to help you neither,” Max sneered sourly and he leaned against the wall to watch. “My little brother was supposed to get Rane’s job.”
Toby cleared the table as quickly as he could, carrying it all down to the kitchens by himself while Max followed empty-handed. Eventually Toby was allowed a break. He had an hour before he had to be back to help prepare lunch for the dozens of guests in the castle and he took some food to Marc.
He and Marc wandered into the more used parts of the castle. He knew how to keep to the shadows and duck out of the way when he came across the guards. After a few minutes of wandering the corridors they found themselves outside the court room. This was one of the few places that townspeople could go in the castle and Toby knew they wouldn’t look out of place in here. Normally the chief clerk stood at the door but today the large doors were unguarded and they went in and sat on one of the many empty pews.
King Herat sat at the far end of the room with a thoroughly miserable looking Prince Rory next to him. A man stood before them in torn and ill-fitting clothes. His head hung so low that his chin rested on his chest and his shoulders drooped in defeat.
“For stealing a chicken from the castle farmyard I sentence you to three months in the cells,” King Herat boomed. His voice could be heard all the way to the back of the court but there was only a handful of people in the whole room to listen. Most townspeople avoided the court for it only brought bad news, never good.
“Three months!” The man jerked his head up at what he seemed to think an unjust sentence. “I didn’t take the chicken, just two eggs.”
“My judgement is final.” King Herat didn’t even raise his voice as he signalled two guards to take him away. “Next case!”
The king frowned as he looked for the chief clerk who brought forward the guilty to be sentenced.
“Maybe there are no more?” Prince Rory suggested hopefully.
“Nonsense! Guard go and see what is going on,” the king ordered.
As the guard walked down towards the main doors they burst open and a tall man with a flowing cape strode into the court. He carried himself with the air of high ranking gentry and he ignored the guard who attempted to stop him. He was closely followed by Vern who was trying to overtake him before he reached the king.
The man’s shocking red hair stood out against his black cape as he strode on with his back to Toby. From the dusting of un-melted snow on his cloak he must have only just arrived at the castle.
“Sir Sir... This isn’t allowed,” Vern insisted but the man took no notice.
“What is all this about?” the king demanded loudly and glared at his chief clerk.
“Your Majesty, I apologise. I tried to tell the gentleman that he could make an appointment to see you next week.” Vern reached the front of the room at the same time as the stranger and bowed.
“Bow before your king!” King Herat looked furious that the stranger had not given the customary bow. “Bow or I’ll have you thrown in the cells!”
For several seconds the man stared at the king and then a thin smile curved his lips.
“I’m glad to see you do not tolerate disobedience,” the man said as he gave a sweeping and graceful bow. “I wish a private audience with you immediately.”
“Impossible.” The king shook his head.
“I will not wait a week to say my piece.” He didn’t seem bothered by the king’s refusal.
“Then you will not have an audience with me at all,” the king returned evenly.
“Very well, I do believe you may have preferred to see me in private...” He paused for effect and probably to make sure everyone was listening. “...father.”