The Four Gifts of the King Read online

  “No one indeed. And do you wonder why?”

  Steward hadn’t considered the thought until now. His mind raced, looking for a suitable answer. None came. And now that he was thinking it over, it did seem strange that no one in Aiden Glenn had ever actually seen the king.

  When a word of proclamation reached the village through one of the king’s messengers, it was treated as a major event, and the instructions were always followed word for word. The stories of the ancestors who visited the throne room and spoke to the king were legendary and never questioned. But now…

  Why would Steward be the first since his ancestors to see the king? “I don’t know why, but I am honored. I will fulfill my calling and carry back to Aiden Glenn the words of the king himself.”

  If only he felt as confident as he sounded.

  “Young Steward, I must ask you a very serious question. I beg of you not to be angry with me, but do consider the question.”

  Steward stopped and studied the vague contours of the hooded figure’s veiled face. The Phaedra’s urgent and hushed voice was strange, as though what he was saying bordered on the sacrilegio—

  “What if there is no king?”

  “No king?” Steward stared at him. “Of course there’s a king!” Steward paced as he spoke. “Our ancestors saw him. And what of the messengers? They come from him. And he keeps the land safe from invaders and heals the sick and—”

  Steward stopped, frozen by his next thought.

  This is all true, but can I really prove that the king exists? No, this is a trick. It’s a deception!

  Steward glared at the Phaedra. “Let me ask you a question. Who told me the wrong meaning of my name, and who wanted me to stay in Petitzaros and not continue on my journey? And who turned me against the Black Knight when he was only there to help me? It was you. And the others like you. So why should I listen to you now?”

  Anger now mixed with confusion at the idea that there might be no king.

  The Phaedra turned and continued the walk. Steward fell into step beside him, and they continued in silence until Steward could not bear his guilt. “I’m sorry, good Phaedra. I’m confused, and I had no right to accuse you of such things. I know you are wise, but I have questions about what has happened to me.”

  The Phaedra’s tone remained steady. “I understand, young Steward, and no apology is necessary. My question came too soon in your journey. And you are right to question my previous words to you. So let me explain myself.”

  The Phaedra explaining himself to me? Who am I to ask such a thing?

  “We are all on our own journeys to discover who we are. We seek some greater power to answer our questions for us. I found you on the path poor and alone, seeking answers. I gave you the meaning of your name as you approached Petitzaros, hoping that you would find peace and happiness there. And you did, before the knight stole you away. We hoped to keep him from stealing the rings from you. Now you are poor and alone once again. And you are still seeking answers that you may have already found. Why would the king ask you to pursue him in this way? And why a black knight as a messenger? Are these not questions to ponder carefully, young Steward? And am I wrong to raise them?”

  Steward would not answer. He saw Zedekai’s face, and the image gave him courage.

  Just then, the path came to an abrupt edge and started downhill, descending into a valley. The path led through the valley, and on the far edge of the valley lay a city.

  “Ascendia?”

  The Phaedra nodded. “Yes. Is that your destination?”

  “Yes, for now. I am to stay at the House of Bendor with the three sisters.”

  The Phaedra shrugged. “And what do you expect to find there?”

  He had no idea. What could possibly await him in this place? Why did he have to go there? Just questions and no answers.

  “I don’t know. The Black Knight did not say. Only that I would know when I had stayed long enough and when it was time to leave.” Steward turned to the Phaedra. “What do you think I will find there?”

  “I think that you will not like it nearly as much as Petitzaros and that you will wish you could go back.”

  “And can I go back…to Petitzaros?”

  “Petitzaros will always be there for you, young Steward, any time you wish to return.”

  Return to Petitzaros…the chains, the emptiness? What was he thinking? “Phaedra, if you would not be offended, I wish to walk alone for a while.”

  “Certainly.”

  And before Steward could look back at the Phaedra, he was alone.

  Steward steadied himself as he started down the steep slope. What answers would he find in Ascendia? Would Zedekai be there? He hoped.

  Regardless, I am not turning back. I have to find the king. But what do I do with the Phaedra? No king? That’s absurd.

  He continued on, and it was early evening when the path merged into the road that led into the city of Ascendia. As Steward drew closer, his eyes widened. Ascendia sat at the transition between a huge valley plain and a steep-faced mountain range. It looked as if the city had been crowded up against the foot of the mountain, almost repelling the open space of the fertile valley that lay to its side. But there was more. Shooting out from the city were stone bridges—ramps really—all arching their way up toward some point on the face of the distant mountainside. And yet only a very few were completed and connected to the face of the peak, while almost all the others went only partway and hung in the sky like great pathways to nowhere.

  Steward passed a man traveling into the city. “Sir, this is Ascendia, is that right?”

  The man raised his eyebrows. “Yes, of course.”

  “Can you tell me why there are so many bridges? Where are they going, and why are so many not finished?”

  “Look, son, I am in a hurry. You’ll find your answers in Ascendia. Ask any of the ramp builders.”

  Steward thanked him. Then as he hurried off he called out, “Oh, and can you tell me where I can find the House of Bendor?”

  The man kept walking but pointed and shouted over his shoulder: “Left at the main street, six blocks down, yellow fence.”

  Steward glanced at the bridges as he walked. Each one was teeming with builders working to extend their ramp. Indeed, it looked as if everyone in Ascendia wanted to get out of the city and climb the ramps up to the mountain.

  He passed through the gates and into the city. Ascendia was nothing like Petitzaros. There were few shops, and those he saw were plain and sparse. There were no grand avenues lined with palm trees, parks, and banquet halls. Instead, serious-faced people moved along the streets, anxiety in their eyes as they darted around in and out of shops and alleyways.

  Why is everyone so nervous?

  The people of Ascendia were dressed in simple clothes, and each one carried what looked to be a large brass bowl with handles on each side. Attached to the handles was a long piece of cloth that served as a sling. Some people had the sling over their shoulder, some around their neck, and some in a combination of the two. But everyone had the brass bowls hanging down in front of them, suspended by a cloth sling.

  Steward walked the six blocks to the house and found himself right underneath one of the great ramps that hung suspended in the sky above him. He arched his neck to look up at it and squinted in the late afternoon sun. Dozens of people were hard at work, some laying stones, others carrying loads of some mixture and pouring it to form the ramp. Many of the workers were using the brass vessels to carry rocks, stones, and the paving mixture.

  So that’s it. The vessels must be tools for building the ramps. But why were the bowls of so many people so clean?

  People were starting to look at Steward with suspicion, and they held their vessels close to their chest. Were they afraid he might try to take them away from them?

  Steward walked on and found himself passing the yellow fence and standing at the gates of the House of Bendor. He knocked on the gates and was confronted at once by a huge man w
ith a booming voice.

  “And who are you?”

  Steward studied his massive frame and gruff expression. Was he a friend or not? “My name is Steward. I’m on a journey to see the king. I was sent here by Zedekai to stay with the three sisters. Are they here?”

  Please tell me they know I am coming. Otherwise I’m lost.

  “Here? Now? Of course not. It is daylight and they are working. But if the Black Knight sent you, I will give you passage and let you discuss this directly with them when they return.”

  So Zedekai’s words are trustworthy. I must remember that.

  The gatekeeper opened the gates and waved Steward in. The courtyard of the House of Bendor had trees, bushes, and flowerbeds all showing signs of neglect. The great house that rose up at the edge of the sweeping lawn was in need of paint and repair. Steward walked up to the front door and opened it.

  The gatekeeper bowed to him. “Please make yourself comfortable. The sisters will be home soon.” With that, he left. Steward went inside and found more evidence of inattention. While well-furnished, the rooms were untidy and musty and begged for open windows and a good dusting.

  Steward found his way to a sitting room where he could look out on the lawns. He sat by an open window to get some fresh air.

  What was that?

  In the distance there was a rumbling, grinding sound. He listened for a minute but couldn’t detect the source. He’d ask about it when the sisters arrived….

  Voices…and footsteps coming up the walk.

  Steward rose to his feet as the front door flew open and in stepped three women, chatting and looking around, searching for their guest.

  The first sister to greet him was a pleasant-looking young woman about Steward’s age. “There you are! You must be young Steward. The gatekeeper said you would be here.” Her blonde hair hung to her shoulders, and her brilliant blue eyes looked Steward over as she approached. “My name is Elopia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Elopia’s simple tunic was draped over her shoulders and hung to her ankles. It was tied at the waist and had the look of a work garment that had not seen much work. Around her neck was the sling that held her brass bowl at both ends. The bowl’s edges were sharp, but the bowl was scratched and slightly dented.

  Before he could return Elopia’s greeting, the second sister barged forward and thrust out her hand.

  “I’m Cassandra, Steward, and you are welcome here at the House of Bendor.” She spoke in a deep and authoritarian voice. Cassandra was very tall, taller than Steward. She had strong features, fire red hair, and deep hazel eyes. She wore a bright white tunic edged in gold that looked like a uniform. Her brass bowl had been reshaped into a breastplate held in place by the cloth sling that ran across both shoulders and crossed in the back.

  She looks like a warrior-goddess. Impressive…and intimidating.

  “Thank you, Cassandra, and it is my great pleasure to meet you both.”

  The three waited in an awkward silence for the third sister to greet him. She approached him.

  “It is nice to have you as our guest. My name is Astrid.” She was quieter than her siblings, but Steward’s heart was stirred.

  There was a strength there. He could sense it.

  Astrid’s worn tunic had no sash. Around her neck a sling held a brass bowl, but hers was battered and dented almost beyond recognition. It even had a gash in it, and Steward could see right through the hole that was left.

  Cassandra removed her breastplate and laid it on a chair. “Is this your first time in Ascendia? If so, you are probably wondering about these Quashes we wear.”

  Quashes? So that’s what the bowls were called. “Well, yes, I was wondering what they are and why they are so different. What do you use them for, and where do you get them?”

  Elopia laughed. “So many questions. And we must answer them all, but over supper. I’m starving.” She left for the kitchen.

  Astrid followed her, commenting as she departed, “Yes, Cassandra, let our guest wash up, and let’s change for supper. We have plenty of time to talk.”

  Cassandra relented. “Very well. Fresh clothes and food, and then we will tell you all of the secrets of Ascendia.”

  The gatekeeper had arrived and led Steward to a guest room that bore witness to a long period of disuse. Still, Steward was happy to be there. He changed, washed up, and returned some time later to the kitchen, where all three sisters were busy making dinner.

  They enjoyed a wonderful meal together, and after wine and sweets they sat in the dining room where tapestries and musty drapes hung around them and the lamps were struggling to win the battle against the darkness. The sisters took no notice.

  This disarray and dust would drive Mother crazy!

  Elopia looked at Steward and, when she had his attention, gave him a wry little smile. “Now, Steward, about those questions. First, it was the king who gave to our ancestors the Quash with its sash.” She handed hers to Steward. It was heavier than he’d expected.

  He examined it as she continued. “Every citizen of Ascendia has worn one ever since. It’s a symbol of our land, and the most precious thing you can ever own. If you want, we can get you one of your own.”

  Steward held it up and ran his fingers along its wide brim. “I would like that. But what would I use it for, and why does everyone’s look different?”

  “Good question!” Cassandra regained control. “The Quash is a tool used to help each person achieve what they desire in life. But it must be used”—she curled her lip at Elopia—“to be useful. Too many people want to keep their Quash spotless, thus rendering it nothing more than a heavy necklace. It is a disgrace.”

  Astrid picked hers up and set it on the table. “Not everyone thinks it is a tool, sister.”

  Cassandra pounced. “No, my dear little misguided sister. People like you waste their Quash on losers and slackers, and what do you have to show for it? A deformed Quash and a miserable life. When will you come to your senses and put that thing to good use?”

  Astrid shot back. “I try to use mine to help others, and for that I will never be sorry.” She collected her Quash, excused herself, and left the room.

  Steward was sorry to see her go.

  She is so strong…and beautiful.

  Elopia huffed in disgust. “Cassandra, did you have to be so hard on her? After all, we can’t all be the great Cassandra.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

  “You’re one to talk. You have no more to show for your use of your Quash than your sister, except for those dents you have inflicted on others.”

  Elopia turned to Steward but continued to shoot glances at Cassandra as she spoke. “You see, Steward, in Ascendia you either attack or get attacked. Everyone wants to outdo everyone else. So if your Quash is dented, you must inflict greater dents on others. It is wound or be wounded. My younger sister cannot dish it out, so she has been assaulted all her life. Then there is my older sister, who has so overpowered everyone that she now carries her Quash like an ornament and bosses everyone around.”

  Steward was feeling caught in the middle of the sibling dispute.

  Change the subject.

  “So what about the ramps?”

  Cassandra broke away from glaring at Elopia. “Ramps? Oh, you mean the Ascenders. Well, we discovered long ago that life is much better up on the mountain than down here in the valley, so we work to build Ascenders from the city up to the mountainside. Smart people use their Quash to build these ramps.” Cassandra motioned toward Elopia. “Others, however, are content to spend their days inflicting dents on others, with no vision for a better life on the mountain. It is a waste and a shame.”

  Elopia stood and took her Quash back from Steward. “Perhaps so, big sister, but at least I am not so absorbed with my work that I miss out on the fun of life.”

  Steward shifted in his seat. If only he could disappear and escape this bickering.

  Cassandra must have noticed his discomfort. “Oh, how inhospitable of
us. Do forgive us, Steward, for our sparring. Tomorrow I will take you to the Ascender I’m building, and you will see for yourself how important and useful this work really is. And I will get you your own Quash. For now, I am exhausted.”

  As Steward stood and walked to the stairs, the grinding noise again reached his ears. He turned to the sisters. “One last question, if I may? What is that noise in the distance? It sounds like a great grinder of some sort.”

  Cassandra looked at Elopia. They seemed unsettled by the question.

  “It is a grinder,” Cassandra replied. “We need a great deal of paving mixture to produce the streets on the Ascenders. We grind rocks and sand to create the mixture.”

  Elopia looked past Steward and out through the window. “Among other things.”

  Cassandra shot her a steel-hard look and then continued. “We do add other ingredients to create the paving mixture, but that is not important now. Tomorrow I will show you the whole process. Now, please, to bed.”

  At that, they departed for their rooms. Steward hated to admit it, but he agreed with the Phaedra: he did not like this place nearly as much as Petitzaros.

  As he headed to his room, the image of Astrid and her worn and beaten Quash drifted into his mind. How does someone so tender survive in this harsh place?

  As he readied for bed, he cocked his head and listened. Was that Astrid’s soft voice coming through the walls of his room? He smiled and slid into bed, ready for sleep.

  Next door to Steward’s room, Astrid lay on her bed, her eyes closed, trying to coax herself to sleep. But she couldn’t. She had the same unsettling feeling she had every night, as though she were not alone. And indeed she was not.

  Standing next to her bed, unseen by her, was a Phaedra bent over her bed, hands clasped together in front of him, whispering in her ear, “The king does not care about you. He has forgotten about you. You must not fight back. It is time to give up, Astrid. It is time to stop fighting back.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Alex set the book down, stretched his arms, and took a drink of herbal tea that Anna had just brewed. Merideth was building walls.