Paul Thompson - A warrior's joyrney

Word of XimXim’s demise spread ahead of the Ergothians. The journey out from Hylo’s capital had been desolate and lonely; the return was like a festival. Kender turned out in droves, lining the road to cheer the Ergothians. Lacking flowers so late in the season, they stripped off the most colorful leaves from nearby trees and spread them before Tol’s horse.

Riding alongside his commander, Egrin said drily, “Victors are always popular.”

Kiya, still mounted behind Tol, eyed the cheering crowd with distrust. “Just keep an eye on your valuables. Kender are even more dangerous when friendly!”

The soldiers did lose equipment to kender “curiosity”-haversacks, gauntlets, a few mantles-but nothing vital. By the time the Ergothians entered Hylo town, the crowds were tremendous. None of the soldiers, not even the oldest and most experienced, had any idea there were so many kender in all of Hylo. Little people cheered from every window, some waving bits of scarlet cloth tied to sticks, like miniature imperial banners. Kender children ran alongside the marching column.

“XimXim is de-ad! XimXim is de-ad!” they chanted, drawing the last word into two syllables.

Their procession bore left into the main square, packed from side to side by the shouting throng. The mob had left a clear lane across the square. It led straight to the door of the royal residence, where Tol halted the column.

“Looks like we’re expected!” Egrin shouted over the din.

Tol nodded. “We represent the empire-let’s pay our respects to the king.” He looked back over his shoulder at the unmoving line of men. “Find Darpo! Tell him to join us up front.”

Soon, the former sailor rode through the double line of soldiers to Tol’s side. Tol raised his hand to signal the soldiers forward. The kender took this as a greeting and let out a high-pitched roar of delight. Tol managed a smile, then waved his men to follow between the two walls of cheering kender.

Hylo’s royal residence was no bigger than any other house on the square. Three stories high, built of cut stone, and half-timbered, the residence was guarded by a detachment of the Royal Loyal Militia. These seventeen kender were dressed in a hodge-podge of military finery-Ergothian iron helmets, Tarsan octagonal shields, mantles in the Silvanesti style. Their weapons were the usual swords and spears, though reduced in size for kender. According to Lord Urakan, the kender imported weapons from the dwarves of Thorin, so the implements were likely made of very good iron and bronze.

Standing at the top of the steps was a fellow slight even by kender standards, almost lost in a long pinkish-brown cape.

“Is that the king?” Tol asked Darpo, but Darpo could only shrug. He had visited various Hylo ports, but had never caught sight of the kender king.

Tol halted Cloud at the foot of the steps. Kiya dismounted and stretched, her limbs unused to riding. Tol tried to mask the exhausted tremor in his own muscles. At his order, Egrin, Darpo, and Kiya joined him in climbing the steps of the royal residence. The tiny kender in the cape resembled a wooden doll, his face seamed with a thousand fine cracks and his long white hair pulled back in a tight bun.

The crowd quieted somewhat. With a respectful nod, Tol said, “Do I have the honor of addressing Lucklyn, king of Hylo?”

“You have more honor than that,” said the wizened kender. “I’m Casberry, the queen. Lucklyn’s gone on a wander and left me in charge.”

Tol and his party knelt. “Forgive me, Your Majesty!”

The queen cackled. “Never mind. At my age, I don’t mind being mistaken for a king. It’s better than being taken for a corpse!”

“Very true,” said Tol. The Ergothians rose.

The queen took out a long-stemmed clay pipe and stuffed a brown weed into it. She stamped her foot and one of the militia left his post to fetch a burning twig from within the house.

While he waited for the queen to get her pipe lit and drawing, Tol noticed she had extremely bright green eyes, like the color of new spring leaves. They reminded him, with an unexpected pang, of Valaran’s.

At last the queen said amiably, between pulls on her pipe, “So, you finally killed XimXim?”

“I did, Your Majesty, though not alone.” Tol introduced Kiya, and gave credit to Miya and Mandes as well.

Queen Casberry choked on smoke. “Not Mandes the Mist-maker?”

“It may be, Majesty. He is skilled at making fogs.”

“He owes us money,” said the queen. “For practicing magic in our realm without a license.”

Tol promised to settle the debt, and the queen moved on to another subject. She tottered over to the Dom-shu woman, gazing up at her considerable height.

“Did someone hex you?” she demanded. “You’re tall as a vallenwood!”

“We of the Dom-shu tribe are all of goodly height,” said Kiya.

The queen tapped the pipe stem against her yellow teeth thoughtfully, then asked, “How’d you like to work for me?”

“Doing what?”

“Bodyguard.” The ancient little queen stepped closer and continued in a loud whisper, “This bunch of empty pockets aren’t much good, you know. When XimXim attacked the city, all of them hid in the cellar!”

“Probably a wise decision,” said Kiya, remembering the terrible toll XimXim had taken on the trained warriors of Ergoth.

The queen snorted. “So? Want to be my royal guard?”

Kiya’s open face revealed the blunt rejection she was prepared to make, but a warning glance from Tol prompted her to say, “Sounds tempting, Your Majesty, but I’m not a free woman. Lord Tolandruth here is my husband.”

The map of fine lines on the queen’s face drooped in unison. “Oh. Well, if you ever get tired of him, come see me. I pay good. Ask anybody.” With a sparkle in her green eyes, she returned to the center of the landing.

“Thanks very much for killing XimXim,” she said to Tol. “He’s been bothering us for a long time. Ate a cousin of mine, Rufus Wrinklecap. Not the Rufus Wrinklecap, mind you. That one once borrowed-”

“You’re welcome, Your Majesty,” Tol said hastily, forestalling what he supposed would be a long tale. “By your leave, we would like to camp for the night just outside the town. We’ll be marching off to Old Port in the morning.”

“Fine, fine. There’s the matter of the fee, though.”

Tol again promised to meet any fine levied against Mandes for his unlicensed practice in Free Point. He was grateful to Mandes-and not a little worried about his recovery from the battle with XimXim.

“There’s another fee,” Casberry said, stroking her pointed chin. “For killing XimXim.”

Tol’s comrades exploded with outraged exclamations. The queen was unmoved by their protests.

“Our law requires all hunters pay a fee, since all game in the kingdom belongs to the crown. That’s me,” she explained. She rapped the bowl of her pipe against the heel of her hand. Burnt weed spilled out, soiling the front of her belted robe. “You being foreigners, I don’t hold it against you that you didn’t pay first. But I must have the hunting fee before you leave my domain.”

Kiya muttered something about thievery. Egrin looked grim, and Darpo scratched his scarred brow, trying to think of a reasonable argument to offer for why they shouldn’t be required to pay.

Tol simply said, “How much, Your Majesty?”

“It’s based on the weight of the game killed. Rabbits are half a copper each, wolves three, deer five, pigs seven, elk and wild oxen go for one silver piece per carcass,” Casberry said, regarding Tol slyly. “XimXim was a rather big fellow, was he not?”

“Yes, Majesty. Yet his carcass weighs surprisingly little.”