“I’m sorry to wake you, my darling,” he said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t Dinah. It was Aras.”
“Aras?” asked Alison. Another of their neighbors, Aras was a fairy shepherd who was generally too busy tending his flock and farm for them to encounter him often. Not to mention that he had been dragged into the magical vine ordeal as well, ending up trapped in the magical manifestation of Keir’s worst memory until they had found a way out. Though Alison and Keir had apologized, they felt a certain degree of guilt and tension where he was concerned and resolved to stay out of his way as much as possible.
“He brought news from town. The king is coming.”
Alison bolted upright in bed. “Coming here? King Derkomai? When?”
Keir moved out of the way as Alison leapt from the bed, dressing in a hurry. “King Derkomai and his entire court as I understand it. They arrive within a fortnight to Weldan House. My father’s invitation.”
Alison paused from pulling up her stockings to see Keir’s reaction. His relationship with his father the Duke of Merelor, the lord of the lands surrounding Herot’s Hollow and its neighboring town Fossholm, was strained to say the least.
Keir’s face was regretful but not bereft. Alison finished dressing and took his hand, guiding him to sit with her on the bed. “I’m okay,” he said. “I’m not the one who needs you right now.”
“Are you sure?” asked Alison. “Do you want to stay here? I’ll stay with you as long as you need me to.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll come with you into town.”
Alison and Keir retraced their steps from the night before, this time in a rush to get down the lane and up the High Street to the blacksmith’s forge just at the base of the mountain.
A small crowd had gathered there in the open-air portion of the workshop. The fires had gone cold beyond them.
A dwarf with grey hair and a warm, round face greeted Alison first: her neighbor, Gwenla. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. We heard Minra’s labor kept you out late last night. What terrible timing. We should all be celebrating the twins, and instead we’re dealing with this nonsense.” Gwenla led Alison to the person at the center of it all, the reason they had gathered there: Weyland Gilroy, the town’s blacksmith, a former prisoner and slave of King Derkomai’s, and one of Alison’s dearest friends.
Weyland, a red-headed giant of a man, could never appear small exactly, but he did seem shrunken as he hunched over a workbench. Beside him was Lady Sibba, his elvish love, her long and lovely brown arms wrapped around him.
“Alison is here,” she said to him gently. He looked up at Alison, carefully avoiding the stares of the other onlookers.
“I really don’t know what all the fuss is about,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Lady Sibba gave Alison a knowing look, both of them hearing the lie in his quavering voice. She took Alison by the hand and sat her down on the bench to the other side of Weyland. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for us—”
“He’s not even coming here. I won’t even see him if I don’t go. I doubt he even remembers that I’m here at all.”
Alison had spent the past several weeks working with Weyland on an illustrated poetry book that was nearing completion. In that time, she had gotten bits and pieces of the story of Weyland’s captivity. He never liked to speak of it at length, but she had cobbled together enough of the disturbing narrative that she imagined she knew more of it than anyone except Lady Sibba.
Years before, when Weyland was a young man, he had been apprenticed to a blacksmith in the city of Sudport, the large southern port city Alison traveled through on her way to Herot’s Hollow and where Rinka would be arriving any day now. He was unnaturally talented at smithing of all kinds, from ordinary iron to dwarven steel to elvish silver and gold. His work quickly gained him a following, and when he returned home to Herot’s Hollow to set up shop, it attracted the notice of the Duke of Merelor himself, Lord Ainsley.
The duke brought several of Weyland’s creations with him to King Derkomai’s court at his castle not far from Arcas Dyrne. The king was so impressed by the craftsmanship, he sent for Weyland to be brought to his court and into his employ.
Weyland relished the chance to prove himself and to experience life among the nobility. He was given access to the king’s forge, and his clientele occupied the highest stations in society. He was invited to the castle for dinners, sitting at a table of high honor with some of the most renowned craftsmen and artists in all of Loegria and Wilderise. He outfitted courtiers and the royals themselves, armoring the king, the prince, and eventhe young princess, although it was largely a ceremonial task as King Derkomai’s family had kept peace among the lands for generations.
The next part of the story was the piece Alison knew the least about. It involved an altercation with a particularly unpleasant baron who was displeased with having to wait on his order. Weyland claimed that all he did was shout at the man, and Alison believed him, but she could also see how the baron may have been frightened just due to the sheer size of him. The baron returned not long after with a group of the king’s guards, most of whom were friends of Weyland’s, men and women he’d personally outfitted. They took Weyland into custody, but rather than taking him to prison, they forced Weyland to build bars around his own forge. The king had decided that rather than stand trial for attempted murder (a charge Weyland vehemently denied), he would be allowed to continue his work as a blacksmith, but without pay. This kind of punishment wasn’t uncommon in the king’s court, although many from the outside had a different word for the king’s mercy: slavery.
For several years, Weyland continued his work in chains. His former friends avoided him, not wanting to be seen with one who had lost the king’s favor. And the king, who was prone to rapidly changing whims and flights of fancy, had forgotten about him entirely. It was only when a new smith was found, a dwarf woman from the Far East who crafted exquisitely sharp swords with curved blades, that Weyland earned his freedom.
He would never forget Mo Ye, the smith who saved him by lying to the king and telling him he’d be better off without Weyland. Nor would he forget the spoiled princess who told her father that executions were boring, and they should just let the big sad man go. And he especially would never forget Lady Sibba, the scholarly elf of Herot’s Hollow who wrote him all through his captivity and kept his spirit alive.
Alison looked from Lady Sibba to Weyland and to the crowd of townspeople who only knew the barest version of his tale, who had all come over to support him the moment they got the news just the same.
“Do we know how long the court is going to be here? Don’t they usually have the Midsummer Festival at the castle?” Alison asked. Maybe they could make it through a week or two of a visit without attracting the king’s notice. Most of the court could be accommodated in Weldan House and Fossholm. Herot’s Hollow was several miles away, at least a couple of hours on foot. As long as no one mentioned Weyland’s name, it was likely there wouldn’t be a problem.
Keir, hearing the question, broke from his conversation with Gwenla and joined Alison. “All summer, I’m afraid. They’re doing the whole season here. The festival, the regatta, the balls. It’s part of the king’s plan to increase the investment in Wilderise.”
He handed Alison a clipping fromThe Sudport Daily News:
A Most Wondrous Occasion: The King travels to Wilderise for a summer of delight in the picturesque Hill Country
His Royal Highness King Derkomai, ruler of our great nation of Loegria and Wilderise and Defender of the Peace, has designed to endeavor in a most wondrous expedition to our own beloved land this very summer. Arriving at the invitation of Lord Kenneth Ainsley, the Duke of Merelor, the king intends to hold his court from Weldan House, moving the usual summer festivities to a new home, perhaps for good. He will be accompanied by the royal family, the majority of the nobility, and a crew of dwarven industrialists bringing plans to modernize Wilderise into a productive land worthy of investment from the greatest minds and companies in ournation. The king’s entourage is expected to arrive in Sudport within the next fortnight in time for the first event of the summer season, the Midsummer Festival, to be held on the lawns of Weldan House.
