Dan Chernenko - The Chernagor Pirates

“Sorry to hear that.” Lanius yawned again. He turned around. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“Good night,” Grus told him. “Don’t snore so loud, you wake up my daughter.” Laughing, Lanius headed back to his bedchamber.

Grus wandered down the hallway. The soft leather soles of his slippers scuffed over the floor’s mosaic tiles. How many times had he walked along here, not noticing the hunting scenes over which so many craftsmen had worked so hard and so long? Tonight, he noticed. Tonight, he had nothing to distract him.

Another man’s footsteps came from around a corner. Grus realized he had not even an eating knife on his belt. Had the Banished One come to Otus as he’d come to the two kings? Was the thrall on the prowl? Would his guards let him go because they thought him cured?

Did he have murder on his mind? Did he have a mind, or was he but a reflection of the Banished One’s will?

The other man came into sight. For a moment, in the dim torchlight, Grus thought it was Otus. Then he saw with his eyes, not his late-night fears. “Hello, Pterocles,” he called. “What are you doing up at this ghastly hour?”

“Your Majesty?” Pterocles sounded as surprised and alarmed as Grus had felt. “I could ask you the same question, you know.”

“Well, so you could,” Grus said. “I couldn’t sleep. I… had a bad dream.”

He knew Pterocles had dreamed of the Banished One. That the Banished One took Pterocles seriously enough to send him a dream was one reason he was chief wizard in Avornis these days. As far as the king knew, though, the Banished One had visited Pterocles only once in the night.

Until tonight. The wizard jerked as though Grus had poked him with a pin. “Why, so did I, Your Majesty.” Pterocles nodded jerkily. “So did I.”

“One of—those dreams?” Grus asked.

Pterocles nodded again. “Oh, yes, Your Majesty. One of—those dreams.” He mimicked Grus’ tone very well. “I haven’t had one of— those dreams for years now. I wouldn’t have been sorry not to have this one, either.”

“I believe you,” Grus said. “Nobody wants a visit from the Banished One.” There. He’d said it. The ceiling didn’t fall in on him. The name didn’t even raise any particular echoes—except in his own mind. Gathering himself, he went on, “It’s an honor of sorts, though, if you look at it the right way.”

“An honor?” Pterocles frowned. “I’m not sure I see… Oh. Wait. Maybe I do.”

Now King Grus was the one who nodded. “That’s what I meant, all right. Most people never have to worry about seeing the Banished One looking out of their dreams. He never needs to notice them. If he notices you, it’s a sign you’ve done something, or you’re going to do something, to worry him.”

“He visited both of us tonight, then?” the wizard asked.

“That’s right.” Grus gave him another nod. “And he visited King Lanius, too.”

“Did he?” Pterocles said. “Do you know why he visited the, uh, other king?”

Grus smiled a slightly sour smile. Even after he and Lanius had shared the throne for a good many years, people still found the arrangement awkward every now and again. He chuckled. He still found it awkward every now and again himself. But that was neither here nor there. He told Pterocles why he thought the Banished One had paid the nighttime call.

“Really?” Pterocles said when he was done. “You surprise me, Your Majesty. When was the last time the Banished One sent three people dreams at the same time?” Pterocles wondered.

“I don’t know,” Grus said. “I don’t know if he’s ever done anything like that before. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“It could be.” Pterocles cocked his head to one side as he considered. “Yes, it could be.”

“That’s what I thought,” Grus said. “And so I don’t mind wandering the hallways here in the wee small hours of the night quite as much as I would if I’d gotten out of bed with a headache or a sour stomach.”

Pterocles grunted. Then he yawned. “It could be so, Your Majesty. But whether it’s so or not, I’m still sleepy. If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to try to go back to bed.”

“King Lanius did the same thing. I envied him, and I envy you, too,” Grus said. “Maybe I’ll nap in the afternoon, but I can’t sleep more tonight. I’m sure of that.”

“I’m off, then.” Pterocles sketched a salute to Grus, turned around, and went back the way he had come.

Grus wandered the hallways aimlessly—or maybe not so aimlessly, for he ended up at the entrance to the palace. The guards there needed a heartbeat or two to recognize him. When they did, they sprang to attention all the more rigid for being embarrassed. His wave told them they could relax. He walked out into the night.

It was cold on the palace steps, but not cold enough to drive him back inside. When he looked to the east, he saw a faint grayness that said sunrise was coming. He stood and waited, watching the gray spread up the dome of the sky, watching the stars fade and then disappear, watching pink and gold follow the gray. All around him, the bricks and stone and slate roof tiles of the city of Avornis took on solid shape and then, a little at a time, color as well.

Lanius had had an idea that worried the Banished One. The more Grus thought about that, the better he liked it.

A new day dawned.