Final Kingdom (11 page)

“Why, it's only two miles from Wet Wash—down next to Two Egg,” Reb explained.

“Oh.” Jake nodded. “I should have known that, of course.”

Beorn listened in silence to all of this. The wagon rolled on. The driver, from time to time, cast a venomous glance at the dwarf, who stared back at him with a pleasant smile.

When they drew close enough to see the outlines
of Celethorn, Sarah stood up in the wagon and marveled at it. “That's some city!” she said with wonder. “Look at it!”

The wagon moved into the outskirts, and all the Sleepers expressed amazement. They were so used to rough villages built of whatever material was at hand— mostly logs or mud, and thatch for a roof—that Celethorn struck their eyes as a marvel.

The buildings, Sarah saw, were all constructed of some smooth material that she could not identify. They did not appear to be painted, and yet she could not discern a seam anywhere. The structures rose from the ground in graceful towers with turrets on top. Many were large and had rounded domes that seemed to be made of glass. The sun caught these, and the reflection of its beams made the city sparkle like a fairyland.

The streets were paved with a smooth, hard material over which the wagon wheels passed without a bump. The fronts of the buildings were pierced with glass windows, but Sarah could not see in through them.

“I'll bet those are like two-way mirrors,” Jake announced. “People inside can see out, but those of us outside can't see in. Pretty neat!”

They passed through a business district lined with the usual enterprises selling food and drink and clothing. There were also many signs advertising “spiritual doctors.”

“Spiritual doctor? I wonder what
that
is,” Abbey remarked. “But the people do wear pretty clothes, don't they?”

She was looking at some citizens who stood watching the wagon trundle along the street. Their garments appeared to be made of silk and were of the brightest colors imaginable—red, orange, purple, vivid
green. The women wore tall, peaked hats, and the men rather flat, soft caps. All seemed to have long hair, and the men, young and old, had beards.

Sarah noticed that many wore huge rings of various colored stones. “They look like emeralds and rubies,” she said, “but they couldn't be. They're too big.”

All in all, they beheld a colorful scene as they passed into the city of Celethorn.

Jake said, “If they can fight as well as they can build cities, Goél can use them in this battle that's coming up—but they just don't look like fighters to me.”

“No, they sure don't,” Reb agreed. “They look like stage actors all dressed up in their pretty clothes and fancy jewelry.” He looked about uncomfortably. “Besides, I don't feel right about this place.”

“Nor do I,” Beorn spoke up. He was watching with a suspicious eye the citizens who lined the streets. “There is a strange air about this place,” he said. “I don't like it.”

“What have you heard about Celethorn, Beorn?” Sarah asked him.

“Some good things and some bad. From what I understand, there's plenty of both here.”

“You mean, beside Goél's people there's black magic too?”

The dwarf glowered at a tall man who wore a pointed hat with stars and moons and suns imprinted on it. “I don't know anything about magic,” he growled. “But they do strange things here, and we'd better be on our guard.”

“But if Goél wants people from here, they can't be bad,” Abbey said quickly.

“As I say, we can expect good
and
bad in Celethorn.”

“That's true of every place we've ever been.” Jake shrugged his sturdy shoulders. “We'll just take the meat and spit out the bones.”

“That's easy enough with meat and bones,” Beorn said, “but people aren't meat and bones. Sometimes fair seems foul, and foul seems fair. You can't always tell a book by its cover.”

“Nor a man by his appearance,” Sarah said. “Think about that awful thing that pretended to be Josh.”

“And there may be worse than that here,” Beorn said. “So beware. Look,” he interrupted himself, “I think we've arrived at the palace.”

The palace was a white structure, so white that it glistened and almost hurt the eyes. It was crowned with seven turrets from which colorful banners fluttered. Sarah noticed again that there were strange symbols on the banners.

The wagon pulled to a stop where Glori stood with a small, silver-haired woman dressed in a simple white gown. As they climbed down, Sarah noted that the woman had a stern face but at the same time had a kind look in her eye.

“This is Deormi, the chief priestess of Celethorn,” Glori said. “May I present the five Sleepers?” She gave their names, then added, “And a dwarf who has helped guide them.”

Deormi was small boned and unimpressive appearing, though her silvery hair was beautiful. It was impossible to guess her age—she could have been anywhere between forty and eighty—and though she was frail in body, something in her countenance and in her cool gray eyes told Sarah that they were in the presence of a powerful woman indeed.

“We have heard of the loss of your companions,” Deormi said quietly. “It is a blow to lose a loved one.”

Her words went right to Sarah's heart, and tears came to her eyes.
She understands,
she thought.
She really understands. It's not just talk.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered.

“Not ‘Your Majesty.' We have no queen here. We are ruled by a council. I am the chief priestess at the moment, but you will learn about our ways later. For now, you have one who is seriously wounded . . .”

“Yes, Deormi,” Abbey said quickly. She was still sitting in the wagon, holding Dave's head. “Please, can you do something to help him?”

“I will do what I can. Bring him into my quarters,” Deormi said.

At once four servants—they wore simple gray clothing and appeared to be of the working class— stepped forward and lifted Dave from the wagon as though he were a child.

The Sleepers followed Deormi into the palace. Inside were richly tiled floors and fine paintings on the walls, and everywhere there were cleanliness and elegance.

The room that the priestess led them into was simple, however. “Put him on the couch,” she said, then pulled up a low stool and sat beside Dave. Staring down at his still, gray face, she smoothed back his hair.

The Sleepers did not so much as say a word, for there was something of authority in the manner of the little woman.

Deormi removed Dave's shirt then and examined the injured arm. It had turned an angry red with fingerlike swellings around the wounded area. Then she went to a cabinet across the room where she quickly and efficiently mixed two potions. She brought back both and set one on a low table. The other was a paste that gave off a pleasant scent. She cleansed the wound,
put the ointment on it, then said, “We will leave the wound unbandaged and let the air get to it.” Then she reached down and with surprising strength lifted Dave to a sitting position.

His eyes fluttered, and his lips moved slightly.

“Here, my friend. You must drink this.” Deormi lifted the other mixture to his lips and forced the liquid between them.

Dave swallowed convulsively, and a shudder ran through his body.

“Do not be alarmed. This is very powerful medicine,” Deormi said reassuringly. “He is past the stage for simple remedies.” Carefully she laid the young man down again, and for what seemed a very long time she simply sat at his side.

Sarah was watching Dave closely. His breathing had been quick and erratic. He had been almost gasping part of the time, but now, she saw with amazement, his breathing was slow and measured. “He's asleep,” she whispered, “and it's real sleep. He's not just unconscious.”

“You have a quick eye, young woman.” Deormi smiled slightly. “I may sit with him for some time. In the meanwhile, all of you are tired and stained with travel. My servants will take you to your quarters. After you have been refreshed and have eaten, I will meet you in the council room. I understand that Goél has sent you to us on urgent business.”

“Indeed, Deormi, that is true,” Sarah answered.

“It is well that we not tarry. Go then, and after you are refreshed we will meet again.”

Deormi nodded her head slightly, and Sarah noticed that a file of servants had come in. Each seemed to know what Deormi wanted without her speaking. One of them, a young lady dressed in an orange robe
with a golden belt, approached Sarah and said, “This way, Lady Sarah.”

Startled at the title, Sarah rose and followed, feeling dirty and awkward in the servant's presence. As they left the room, she heard the others being named, and then the girl led her down a series of corridors.

They came at last to a door that somehow opened without being touched. As Sarah was puzzling over this, she stepped inside and saw a beautiful room. It was large and fitted with furniture covered with gaily colored silks that looked very inviting. The walls glowed with hidden lighting, and one entire wall was open to the outside world. They could look out over the beautiful city of Celethorn.

“My name is Reeta,” the servant said. “I will help you. You are very tired.”

Sarah had never been so competently cared for in her life! After a luxurious bath, she sat before a mirror as her hair was arranged in a marvelously intricate fashion.

“You've done it beautifully, Reeta!”

“I'm glad you like it.” The servant smiled. “Now, let me assist you with your dressing.”

Sarah stared with amazement at the beautiful green silk gown that Reeta had chosen for her. The servant fastened the waist with a golden belt and then attached two small, exquisite green stones to her earlobes.

Sarah said, “I've never been taken care of so well in my entire life. This dress is a perfect fit.”

“You look very beautiful, Lady Sarah,” Reeta said. “Now then, I imagine your companions are all bathed and dressed as well. It is time for the meal. Will you come with me?”

Again Sarah followed her, almost reluctant to leave the beautiful room. They ascended several flights
of stairs, then walked down a hall. Reeta stopped beside a small door, which slid open.

“Step inside,” Reeta said, and when Sarah did so, the door closed. The small compartment moved upward smoothly without a sound.

“Why, it's an elevator!”

“We call it a
lifter
. You have seen one before? Very few people have.”

“Oh, yes. Back in Oldworld.”

Reeta's eyes glowed with interest. “Yes, I would much like to hear about your previous life—but that will have to come later,” she said as the car stopped and the door opened.

Sarah soon found herself in a banquet room. It was a circular chamber with a circular table, and she saw that the other Sleepers and the two guides were already present. Deormi was there as well, seated beside a man who was tall and dark of hair and with swarthy features. His full black beard hid his mouth, and the turban on his head came down low on his brow. He wore a full-length gown with strange emblems impressed on it, and his eyes burned as they looked upon Sarah.

“Ah, the last of our guests is ready.” Deormi smiled. “Sarah, this is Yanto, the chief magician of Celethorn.”

“You're welcome, Sarah, to our city,” Yanto said. “May I suggest we eat now, so that we can talk of the thing to be done?”

Sarah sat between Abbey and Jake. The food they ate at that banquet she would never forget. There was crisp salad of lettuce, carrots, radishes, and other delicious leafy vegetables that defied all her experience. This was followed by fresh, flaky fish that broke into delicious chunks as it fell from the bones. Then there
was a roast, cut into tiny bits that they dipped into a delicious sauce. Finally there was what passed for ice cream but was smoother, colder, sweeter, and in flavors Sarah had never dreamed of.

When they had finished eating, Reb said, “I been to three county fairs and two snake stompin's—but I never had a meal like that in my whole life! Why, it's better than Aunt Jenny's barbecue!”

Deormi found his words amusing. “We appreciate your praise, Reb. I trust that all of you have enjoyed your meal. And now we will hear of your journey. Some of it we know, but do not spare the details. Sarah, perhaps you would be the speaker in this case.”

Sarah flushed, for she was accustomed to either Josh or Dave doing the speaking. Nevertheless, as best she could, she began to tell how Goél had counseled them at the Plains of Dothan. She related that they had been sent to alert the tribes in the Land of Ice, the Land of the Centaurs, and the Land of the Magicians. She ended by saying, “It is the desire of Goél that you come and help him in the last battle.”

As she spoke, she thought she saw a shadow pass over the face of Yanto. Now he glanced at the priestess and said quickly, “This is a matter for the entire council.”

“Of course, Yanto. We will meet tonight. I will see that you guests are entertained,” she told the Sleepers, “and when the council meets we will decide what must be done.”

When the Sleepers were alone, Jake said, “It's not in the bag.”

“What do you mean?” Abbey asked.

“I could see that they hadn't decided what to do,” Jake said. “They may go to the Plains of Dothan, or they may not go.”

The dwarf said, “I fear that they will
not
go. They
are too comfortable here. They know no fear and have not been touched by the Dark Lord—at least not outwardly.”

“What do you mean, ‘outwardly'?” Sarah asked.

Beorn would say no more, but his comment disturbed her. “I have confidence in Deormi,” she said defiantly. “She's a good woman—I could tell that.”

“Maybe so,” Reb said doubtfully, “but that dude that was with her, he's got a hard look on him. I've seen his kind before. He's gonna give us trouble.” He shook his head dolefully. “Why does there have to be one like that everywhere we go?”