The celebrations continued for three days and nights. Every day since the destruction, artisans had been hard at work rebuilding the city. The Master Stonecutter had seen to the walls and his laborers and masons had them nearly as strong as they once had been. Already the city’s smiths had the ironwork of the southern gate and portcullis restored. The city’s woodworkers had started construction on dozens of new homes. And the fact that there was already a shortage of nails, timber and bricks, proved how hard everyone was working toward the city’s restoration.
Vilmos was growing restless. It wasn’t so much that he was tired of life in Quashan’s keep, but he was unaccustomed to people paying so much attention to him. Serving girls made him uneasy by catering to his needs and treating him as he imagined visiting royalty must be treated. The room he and Xith shared held riches beyond anything he had ever dreamed of. The mattresses on the beds were made of hundreds, maybe thousands, of goose down feathers, as were the magnificently plush pillows. He had never imagined a bed could be made out of anything other than straw covered over or that a night’s sleep could be so restful and refreshing.
The sheets were soft and silky smooth. Servants would draw him a bath each evening and he used scented soaps to wash with. He had been given fine clothes, a jeweled dagger to put in the scabbard at his belt, and handsomely crafted leather boots. No more ill-fitting boots.
Oddly, it was the absence of his old and worn boots that made him yearn for home. He wondered how Lillath and Vil fared, and hoped that no harm had come to them. He had told Xith of his vow that one day he would return home, and Xith had said that perhaps one day he could go home, but that day would be a long way off.
Vilmos looked at himself in the mirror again, made a face, and started to undress. Xith came into the room.
The shaman smiled, then said, “You look like a fine young man, come quickly. We cannot keep His Highness waiting.”
Vilmos frowned, looked back into the mirror, then wordlessly followed Xith. He knew something special was planned for this evening, but what Xith hadn’t told him.
They were descending the central stairs to the keep’s great hall, when Vilmos asked, “Why all the secrecy? What is afoot?”
Xith stopped and faced Vilmos. “Enjoy yourself this evening. We will be leaving Quashan’ in the morning. It is time to begin your education.”
“Education?” Vilmos asked.
Xith didn’t answer, instead he continued down the stairs. Vilmos heard playful laughter in his mind and before he followed Xith, he glanced to the top of the stairs. Galan and Seth stood at the top of the landing. Galan wore a deep blue dress befitting a princess and Seth wore princely clothes matched to Galan’s dress.
We will leave in the morning also, Galan said. Galan took Seth’s hand as he offered it to her, and he led her down the stairs toward Vilmos. Perhaps you will come with us to Imtal to speak to King Andrew.
“I would like that,” Vilmos said, “but I think Master Xith has other plans.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Seth said. He spoke aloud. “But I fear we are nearly late and should hurry.”
Vilmos smiled at Seth’s spoken speech. Seth was working hard on his Kingdom accent.
Galan laughed again, and Vilmos heard its echo in his mind as she prodded him to chase after Xith.
Vilmos raced off to the keep’s great hall. Seth and Galan followed.
Inside the hall, hundreds of guests were seated at the many tables encircling the main table. At the head of the main table sat Prince Valam. Seated to his left were Chancellor Van’te, Keeper Martin, Father Jacob, Sergeant Danyel’, Captain Adylton of Imtal and Captain Berre of Quashan’. Princess Adrina, the soon-to-be captain Emel, Vilmos, Xith, Seth and Galan were seated to his right. Vilmos was glad to be surrounded by a few friendly faces, for most of the others in the enormous hall were strangers to him.
Wonderful aromas rose from the kitchen at the northern end of the hall and, nearly out of sight, attendants waited to bring food to the tables. Vilmos glanced to the four empty seats around the table and wondered who they were reserved for, then bowed his head as Father Jacob began the before meal prayer.
Father Jacob concluded the prayer as he had the past seven evenings, by giving thanks to Great-Father for divine providence. Afterward, for a brief time, a discord of voices returned.
Vilmos looked about the hall.
Emel, to his left, said, “Still not used to it, are you?”
“To tell the truth, I would much rather eat somewhere more private.”
“And miss all this?” asked Adrina. “Just wait till you see Imtal’s hall.”
Vilmos shrugged.
Emel whispered, “Me too.”
Adrina asked Vilmos, “You will be coming with us to Imtal, won’t you?” When Vilmos didn’t answer immediately, Adrina glared, then added, “You must.”
Vilmos turned expectant eyes to Xith.
“Alas,” Xith said, “it is time we were on our way. Vilmos and I have much to do. He has an education to begin.”
Adrina made a face.
Xith said, “Do not fret, Princess. Seth and Galan will accompany you to Imtal, yet, I suspect that you have not seen Vilmos and I for the last time.”
Vilmos was about to say something when Lord Valam cleared his throat, then stood. A sudden hush spread throughout as Valam’s gaze swept around the hall.
“On the eve of the seventh day of the cleansing of our home, we celebrate.” Valam raised a golden goblet. “We commemorate those who have fallen in the defense of their kingdom and honor those who helped achieve victory.
“It is unfortunate that this hall cannot hold each and every soldier presently residing in Quashan’, for, down to the last man—” Adrina cleared her throat. “—and woman, they contributed to victory, and none more so than those of you seated here today. I, the citizens of Great Kingdom, and your king, thank you.”
Valam raised the goblet above his head in salute, then drank from it until it was empty. A cheer went up, then everyone likewise honored the toast, Vilmos included, though he did not drink wine. Xith had warned him that he shouldn’t and for good reason, because it was customary for each of the honored guests to likewise make a toast. Cheers followed every toast, empty wine bottles were hurled against the walls and attendants hurried about the room with new bottles.
When it came time for Vilmos to make a toast, he was so nervous that all he could manage to say was, “To Great Kingdom,” and still the crowd cheered.
The last toast made, the cheers faded. Prince Valam stood. He raised his hand, commanding silence. “Several matters have come to my attention that demand addressing,” he began. “First of all, the heroic deeds of those seated here—” Valam swept his hand around the central table. “—are largely unknown to all save a few. I wish to make public the knowledge of these deeds so that all may know and none will forget.”