Mantle: The Return of the Sha (11 page)

When they came to a stop in the center of the square, Zander exited his coach and went around to personally open the door of the coach that Lizabet and Bella had been riding in, brushing aside the young attendant who was already prepared to do the same. As Lizabet stepped out of the coach, she saw that the ground in the square had the shine of glass, or possibly marble. Her eyes immediately went wide, and she paused briefly before setting her foot on the shiny material. Zander noticed her hesitation.

“The floor of the square was created by the stonecalls, using the finest shifting stones. Do you like it?” he asked, realizing that, while he might have taken the beauty of the place for granted, she would find many wonders at Obengaard that would amaze her. The stone flooring of the square was only one of many.

“Yes, I like it very much,” Lizabet replied. “It’s quite amazing.”

Once she got a closer look, she realized that the stones had been shaped in a way that made them fit together perfectly. They had been shined to the extent that it almost appeared to be one continuous feature. The stones were not smooth on the top, however, as she had originally thought. The flooring was actually rough (as stones should be), but somehow it didn’t appear so.

Once Bella, Lizabet, and Carlotta had exited the coach, a short gentleman with oily hair and an equally oily mustache that curled at the ends approached and bowed to King Zander.

“Welcome back, Majesty. I hope that your travels have been kind.”

Zander had intentionally refrained from smiling, and had worn the previously sour expression that those at Obengaard had known. Now, he slowly looked around at the residents of Obengaard that had quickly lined the square and balconies of the upper levels, and smiled broadly. There was a uniform gasp from the crowd, and almost instinctively, they put their hands to their mouths in shock as if they had rehearsed the choreography of it beforehand. Then an eruption of applause ran through them immediately.

After the applause had lasted nearly a full minute, Zander raised his hand and the crowd immediately became silent as if they had been barn animals that had just received their daily ration. At least Lizabet thought of it in such a way.

“Yes, as you can see, my travels have been
very
kind…very kind, indeed.”

Now Zander noticed the man with the curled mustache looking at first to Bella, and then to Carlotta, who stood at Lizabet’s feet, tied to her string and shaking her beak in quick left-to-right motions.

Zander turned around to Bella and took her hand, gently directing her forward so that she stood next to him.

“Arthur, I would like to introduce Bella Abbot and her sister Lizabet of Terra,” Zander said, his expression changing to one of excitement. “My dear Bella, this is Arthur Steed. Mr. Steed manages Obengaard.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Steed,” Bella replied, as she gave a light curtsey.

Lizabet also approached and curtsied, “It is very nice to meet you, Mr. Steed. This is my friend, Carlotta.”

“Yes, please pardon my manners. Arthur, young Lizabet and her friend, Carlotta, are responsible for my improved state of affairs. They should receive any accommodations that they might require.”

Arthur bowed lightly to Lizabet, and said, “Yes, Majesty, I will see to it that Miss Abbot and her
friend
are well taken care of.” Turning now to Bella, Arthur continued, “How long do you plan to remain at Obengaard, Miss Abbot?”

Zander’s face brightened as he replied for Bella, “Mr. Steed, please allow me to
re
-introduce Miss Abbot properly, for I believe that I may have misled you. I would like you to meet my love and future queen, for we are to be married.”

Arthur’s eye’s widened as large as two moons, his mouth opening to a perfect oval. And while Zander did not make his announcement in a particularly loud voice, those who were standing at the inner edges of the crowd had heard. The news began to quickly pass one by one until whispers could be heard rolling throughout the crowd, eventually making its way to the upper balconies. Finally, a few cheers broke out here and there until there was a rumble of applause and verbal cheer. The acoustics of the square made the sound deafening at its peak, until Zander held up his hand to signal that he would like to speak.

“Yes, it is true,” Zander exclaimed, now in a louder voice that seemed to bounce from every wall of the city. “Bella Abbot has agreed to marriage and is to be my queen.” He then lowered his head in thought for only a moment before raising it to continue. “My beloved subjects, I have misspoken; Bella Abbot is to be my
wife
…she is to be
your
queen.”

Another eruption of cheer broke out, which Zander allowed to continue this time. While the crowd went on, he leaned over to Arthur’s ear and said, “Instruct your senior maids to prepare quarters for both Bella and Lizabet; give them anything they need, for I owe everything to them. Then assemble my full council immediately.”

“They are already assembled, Majesty. I relayed your earlier message, and they are prepared to meet with you forthwith.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Arthur said as he bowed. He then bowed to Bella and held out his arm to motion to her. “Please come with me, Miss Abbot.”

As they began to walk away, Zander quickly turned back toward them. “Arthur, wait, there is something else.”

Zander turned back toward his traveling party and motioned for Balki to step forward. In the excitement of his announcement, he had forgotten Balki entirely. But Balki hadn’t forgotten, and he had already been filled with white hot rage when it appeared that the king had skipped over his introduction.

“Arthur, I would also like for you to meet Balki Touro, son of Tate Touro. Balki will be joining us at Obengaard, and I believe his advice may prove useful. Provide him with anything he might need, before sending him along to join the council. I would like for him to have full knowledge of our situation. He may provide fresh eyes where others might be stale.”

Arthur was visibly surprised. “But Majesty, Mr. Touro has not been confirmed as—”

“Mr. Steed,” Zander interrupted, “your concern is noted. However, I will trust my own instinct on the matter.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Arthur replied, as he then gestured to one of his own men. “Please accompany Mr. Touro to the council chamber.”

****

The inflock could not have planned the sequence of events any better had it tried. It was almost as if the king knew its mission and purpose as well as itself. For it was a
self
after all—a
being
. It only lacked a body, and that would change soon enough. Balki Touro had proved to be an extraordinary vessel for the inflock. The meddling girl had been problematic, yes, but she could be easily avoided now that they had entered the vastness of Obengaard. And the inflock would make its strike soon enough anyway, taking control of Balki Touro as easily as a puppeteer instructs his helpless figures to do his bidding.

Balki, now feeling right as rain, was bursting with satisfaction. He had longed for the fast-track to power, and it had been dangled directly in front of him. There was something else, though. A feeling deep inside that he couldn’t quite touch. His instincts told him that the inflock was becoming more powerful, and a twinge of terror rose in his belly. His arms grew goose flesh and he suddenly felt frightened. It was for only a moment, but it was there; he knew that something extraordinary was coming. And although the horror of it had crept over him briefly, he knew that he would welcome the inflock openly and without question.

****

As Balki walked into the council chamber, he was awestruck by the room. The walls were made of a dark-colored wood, with portraits of past monarchs hanging along all sides of the room, creating three parallel rows. If he had counted, he would have found there to be nearly thirty of the paintings. From the edge of the room, it almost seemed gaudy, but once you had fully entered, it became beautiful at once.

The council table, which was known as the
Concord Block
, was round and looked to be nearly twenty feet across at its center. Once Balki approached, he realized that the table was actually a single slice of Sovereign wood, cut one foot thick. The bark around the edges had been smoothed, but continued to maintain a rippled exterior. Had he been allowed to take the king’s seat at the table, he would have seen that, from the king’s vantage point, the table appeared transparent at certain angles, revealing a full view of anything that might take place beneath it. The full top of the table was a complete map of Mantle, burned into the wood, with all
four
kingdoms of Mantle represented, including the kingdom of Skite.

As he took his seat at the table, the king’s advisers became silent at once, and turned their collective gaze directly at him. On some faces he saw contempt, and on others he saw indifference. He wasn’t bothered by the hard looks given off by the men, but wondered if his presence had somehow touched on a fragile balance of power among them. The thought of this pleased him very much, indeed, and he held back a smirk when he thought of how little they actually knew of power. After all, only a short time ago he was nobody; now he was taking his seat at the Concord Block. He seemed to have fallen into a fortunate situation nearly all at once. Add to that his ability to cloak, with an inflock to guide him, and the men seemed almost infantile in the arena of power.

The silence in the room was uncomfortable, but within a moment of Balki taking his seat, the king entered, and Balki silently sighed relief. He was not prepared to speak with the king’s advisers without Zander present, and he had no intention of cloaking himself during this meeting if he could help it. He wanted to hear the council’s discussions unfiltered. After all, he wasn’t yet aware of the subject of the meeting. He knew that something had happened, but the king hadn’t provided him with details. For all he knew, the king might have called his advisers only to discuss his impending nuptials.

The inflock suspected the true meaning of the gathering, though. It had gained power, even more so in recent days, and would be fully strengthened before long. The inflock felt an overwhelming hunger, as best as it can be explained, and it knew its opportunity to return to Skite would be upon it soon.

King Zander’s entrance was swift and as he quickly poured himself a glass of beaded wine he began by saying, “Well, my fair advisers, what news do you have from the Outland Guard? Surely, by now things have progressed.”

There was a pause before an elderly man finally spoke up. The elderly man, whose name was Crook (nobody knew why—and no one dared ask), was in fact the oldest of the advisers, and possibly in all of Obengaard. Certainly, he was the oldest at Bannister Castle. Zander had amusingly thought many times that the man looked old enough to have personally witnessed the last Mantle War.

“Majesty, there are two guards reported dead by the Dark Weed,” the old man said. “The first was unfortunate to stumble upon it, and the second was taken when he tried to assist.”

Balki’s eyes widen slightly and he shuffled in his chair, excited by what he was hearing. Zander lowered his head and shook it slowly back and forth. “You are to postpone informing their families. I want to give them the truth, and until we know what we’re dealing with, I have no intention of starting rumors and creating panic. Tell me, how much of the grass has been seen?”

Once again, Crook spoke, “The Guard is reporting that the Dark Weed
had
appeared in small patches the size of melons, each separated by nearly a quarter mile. But they hadn’t noticed it until the men had already perished. No one living has ever witnessed it firsthand, so they had missed it.”

It was true that no one in Forris who was still living had ever seen Dark Weed, and Zander now wondered how many times that would be a problem as the crisis unfolded.

“Now,” Crook continued, “they are seeing it grown more and more each morning when the sun rises. They say that it has spread in patches, as far as can be seen, Majesty. Some patches, they say, have grown to ten times the size of the Concord Block itself!”

“Tell me, Crook, how can they be certain of this? Is it not unseen to all but the Eagles?” Zander asked.

“Yes, but it can be tricked into revealing itself, it seems. The men have devised a way, by catapulting shots of small shrapnel into the Outlands. When it drops to the ground, the grass responds defensively, standing up dark-side revealed. The method only works for mere moments, but it’s a long enough time to see it.

“They can only fire to a certain distance, but it reveals it nevertheless.” Crook paused, but then resumed before the king had an opportunity to form his next question. “They’ve tried burning it, Majesty, but it won’t burn. Instead, when the weed meets flame, it creates a sound so unbearable that the men dare not try again.”

At this last remark, Zander’s eyes widened. He had read the few ancient scrolls that described the Dark Weed—they all had, and this was the first he had heard of a sound emitting from it when burned.

If the grass has evolved its own defenses, then what else has?

Zander sighed and said, “General Brask, do you have an inventory of our defenses yet?”