Chapter 22: Brian Meets Risoart
Brian looked up at Risoart, his wrists chafing against his bonds. "Aren’t you going to offer a man a drink?"
Risoart growled. “Start talking. And this had better be good.”
"Not even a splash of that Elvish wine? I know you keep a sack of it. And you know that I’ve been up in the mountains for years, without a decent cup of wine. I’ve forgotten what fermented grapes even taste like."
“No wine.”
"A smoke, then? I always like to smoke when I’m telling a good story.”
Risoart scraped a heavy wooden chair across the floorboards and sat opposite Brian, leaning his bulk over the table. “Let’s get something straight. I’m here because you insisted on seeing me. I didn’t ask to see you. And I don’t feel obligated to make you feel comfortable while you talk. Now, if you tell me something useful, possibly I can find my way to giving you some drinks or tobacco. But you had better get talking first.”
"Right. Well." Brian leaned back, squinting at the rafters as if searching for a thread. "Where to begin? I suppose, looking back on it all now, you’re going to ask me why I didn’t realize it sooner. I mean, it all seems so obvious in retrospect. But you have to keep in mind that up in the mountains, it’s a whole different world. People don’t think up there like they do in the forest. All you care about is surviving the night, and keeping your throat safe from wolves and the occasional stray ogre. No one up there even talks about what is happening in the forest.”
"Get on with it," Risoart growled, his hand resting near the pommel of his sword.
“I am. You see, there was this old couple up in the mountains. I don’t know how old they were exactly. On the one hand, their skin was really weathered and taught. If you looked at their skin, you’d think they were at least ninety years old. But on the other hand, they weren’t some weak old doddards. They were both tough and grizzled. The man especially could still put up a really good fight. I once saw him cornered by three ogres; he butchered two and sent the third running back into the dark. Oh, and that’s the other thing. He said he was just a simple woodsman, but he had a sword that no simple woodsman would ever be able to afford. And his wife knew all about herbs and medicines. And they could read. They even had a book in their house. In the mountains.”
“To the point!”
“I’m coming to it. Anyway, I don’t know how old they were, but they must have been well over sixty. Way too old to have kids. But they had two children, a boy and a girl, who were fifteen.”
Brian paused, letting the silence hang, watching Risoart's eyes. Risoart noticed the pause. “So?” he asked irritably.
“So? Don’t you get it? They were both of them fifteen, the boy and the girl. They were twins. A twin boy and girl and fifteen years old exactly.”
Brian paused again, and Risoart continued to stare at him with an annoyed face. But then, slowly, the gears turned. The captain's brow furrowed, the color shifting slightly in his cheeks. “It’s a coincidence,” Risoart said. “It’s a big world out there, and twins must be born all the time.”
“But who are they being born to?” Brian asked. “The old couple who are raising them are too old to be their natural parents.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Risoart said.
“Doesn’t it?”
“No. Maybe their parents died. Maybe they’re the grandparents. Or they simply aged poorly in the mountain wind. But one thing I know for sure is that it’s not them. I have it on good authority that--.”
Brian interrupted. “From who?”
“What?”
“Have it on good authority from who?”
“What do you mean from who? The whole court knows what happened.”
“But did you actually see the bodies?”
“Me, personally? No, of course not. But I’m sure Ambrosia must have--”
“It’s them,” said Brian, leaning forward. “And I’ll tell you why I’m so certain. The girl has magical powers.”
“What kind of magical powers?”
“Well, she can’t control it yet. Not really. She just has the energy. She doesn’t know any spells or anything, but she can release the energy through her hands. I saw her burn a man to death just by touching him. I saw it with my own eyes.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Risoart stared at the table, his mind clearly racing, before he shook himself out of it. “Anyone can make up stories,” he said. “Especially if he has something to gain. You know that your life is forfeit now that my men have captured you, so you’re just making up fantasies to try to get out of it.”
“Maybe,” said Brian. “But there’s a simple way you can check what I’m telling you.”
“And that is?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure that old man and old woman weren’t simple woodcutters. They’re too well educated, and the man’s sword was too expensive. I reckon they must have been part of the Castle court. I’m guessing the man was one of the castle guards. The woman must have been one of the castle healers. So, it’d be a simple matter to check--go back to the court, and ask them if an old guard, and an old healer disappeared together about fifteen years ago. You’re the captain of the Queen’s guards. Surely you must know if…”
Risoart’s face went entirely blank. He slowly sank back into his chair, the legs creaking under his weight.
“You don’t even need to check, do you?” Brian said. “You can think of a couple like that right now.”
“Yes, I can,” admitted Risoart. His face had changed. He was no longer resistant to what Brian was saying. “But why the mountains?” Risoart said. “It doesn’t make any sense. That’s the most dangerous place you could choose for raising two children.”
“It makes perfect sense,” said Brian. “Think about it. Where’s the one place that you and your men are afraid to go? What better place to hide?”
Risoart nodded slowly. "Yes. I suppose so."
“So what about a cup of that Elvish wine, now?”
There was an arrogance in Brian’s tone that annoyed Risoart. “You always did like to push things, didn’t you Brian?”
“Who’s pushing things? I’ve brought you invaluable information. I don’t think a cup of wine is asking too much!”
“Yes, well now that I’ve got your valuable information, what’s stopping me from just taking you outside and cutting your head off!”
Brian chuckled. “Well, that wouldn’t be very grateful of you, would it?”
“It’d be the simplest way to get rid of you.”
“But you don’t want to get rid of me. You want me to help guide you up into the mountains. You remember the last time your people tried to go up into the mountains without any guides.”
Risoart's jaw tightened. "That wasn't my command.”
"But you remember the bodies. Or what was left of them after the mountain bears had their fill. I should know—I was one of the local woodsmen paid to haul the bones down. Though, obviously, I wore a hood so you wouldn't recognize me."
Risoart passed his hand across his face slowly, and then stroked his chin. “Well, that’s just the point, though. We don’t want to go back up into those mountains, if we can avoid it. And if those two kids aren’t causing any trouble up there, I’d say just let them be. I was perfectly happy before I knew that they were up there, and I’d be perfectly happy forgetting that they were up there.”
“Ambrosia won’t agree.”
Risoart smiled grimly. “No, Ambrosia wouldn’t agree. So we’ve got to make sure that no one ever tells her. Hence cutting off your head.”
“Ah, you’ve got it all planned out, don’t you. And here was me, thinking that you had no foresight.”
Risoart nodded his head slightly, and smiled again.
“But just think about this a little bit further,” Brian said. “Why do you think that old couple would leave their comfortable posts at the castle court to go and raise twin babies up in the mountains? Do you think it’s because at their late age they suddenly started yearning for two crying babies to suckle? Do you think it’s because they enjoyed the cold frigid air of the mountains? No, they are loyalists to the old king. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. They are planning on waiting until those two children come of age, and then they are going to bring them back and restore the rightful heirs of Castle Tauna. And then, you can be assured, Ambrosia will certainly find out about them. And when that happens, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.” Brian smiled. Risoart scowled.
“Now,” said Brian, “let me paint a slightly different picture for you. You capture the children and the old woman. You bring them before Ambrosia. Ambrosia examines them herself, and realizes that they really are the royal twins. The old woman confesses to everything. Ambrosia realizes that you saved her throne. She is forever in your debt. And then you’ve got it made for the rest of your life.” Brian stopped talking and leaned back in his chair.
Risoart breathed in, and looked at Brian closely. But Brian could see the change in expression. He knew he had won the argument. "You always did know how to paint a picture, Brian,” Risoart said at last.
“How about that cup of wine?”
“Mind you,” said Risoart, standing up. “I’m not sure I trust you completely. This may yet be some sort of trick. But what you’ve told me so far does fit with the facts as I know them.” Risoart took a sack of wine from the back of the room and poured it into a couple of clay cups. He set one cup in front of Brian, and then sat down with the other cup. “You don’t mind if I join you in your drink, do you?”
Brian lifted his cup up in a welcoming gesture.
“There was indeed an old man who served in the castle guards with me several years ago. His wife was one of the healers. They disappeared about the same time that the twins were supposedly killed. I didn’t see any connection between the two events at the time, but…” Risoart’s voice trailed, and he took a drink from his cup. “They sound like the people you are describing. The old man was really grizzled. Old, but tough. He could still hold his own in a fight. The woman I didn’t know well. I didn’t interact with the healers much. But I’d recognize them both if I saw them again.”
Brian took a slow sip, savoring the sweetness, before raising a finger. “Ah, I forgot to mention. The old man’s dead, unfortunately. The mountain thieves killed him last week.”
“What?”
Brian shrugged. “You know how it is. It’s dangerous up in the mountains. The old woman’s still alive though.”
“I see.”
“And I’d be willing to act as your guide to find her. For a few conditions, of course. I want a full amnesty. I want to be able to come back to the forest.”
“Of course you do,” Risoart took another drink of the wine. “But before I put my life at risk by making that journey up into the mountains, I’m going to make a few enquiries down here in the forest first. There’s still one more piece of the puzzle. Those babies were handed off to an executioner. The executioner reported those babies to be dead. I want to find out what he has to say for himself before I trust myself to your guidance in the mountains.”
Brian raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to travel for weeks just to ask one man a few questions, are you?”
“No, I’m not.” Risoart looked down at his cup of wine for a bit, and then looked up at Brian. Brian had the sense that his face was being studied. “As it happens,” Risoart said slowly, “that executioner is one of my men now.”
“What?” Brian almost dropped his cup.
“I can see from your surprise that you didn’t know this before.”
“No. How would I know?”
“I guess I wouldn’t expect that you would. Except it does seem like a strange coincidence, doesn’t it? I mean, in light of all that you told me. The old couple is up in the mountains raising those babies, and the soldier who was supposed to execute those babies is part of the forest patrol at the bottom of those mountains.”
“Yes, it does seem strange,” Brian agreed.
“He requested a transfer out here about ten years ago. He’s been in my patrol ever since. It could be just a coincidence. Or it could be more than a coincidence. And if it’s not a coincidence, then that would make me trust your story a little bit more. Especially since you didn’t even know about that piece of the puzzle.”
Brian slapped his forehead with his hand.
“Do you have something to add?” asked Risoart.
“Yes, yes,” said Brian. “I’m just realizing it now. The old man and I, we used to go down the mountain about twice a year. We’d sell the wood to the forest people, and then we’d get various supplies in exchange. It was risky, of course, coming down into the forest, but I kept my face covered and we made sure not to stay too long.”
“Yes, I had heard there was some trading going on between the mountain folk and the forest people,” said Risoart. “I never officially approved of it, but I never tried to stop it either. We found the wood very useful, after all.”
“And whenever we came down, the old man, he always had the same contact person. There was always one member of the forest patrol who would meet us at the foot of the mountain, and buy our wood for us. He never argued or haggled about the price. He just paid us what we asked. I think he must have been--.”
“Yes, I wonder,” said Risoart. “Two old loyalists working together. One keeps the children safe up at the top of the mountain. The other keeps him supplied from the bottom of the mountain. The executioner who never executed the children. It’s all fitting together now, isn’t it? Well, let’s have a talk with him, and see what he has to say for himself.”
“He’s going to deny it, of course,” said Brian.
“Don’t be so naive. I have ways of making him talk.”
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