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Authors: Lee Duigon
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told me. I don’t remember you, and I don’t remember how I got to be a king. I’m sorry.”
The hard faces softened. A tall old man with a grey beard got up and laid a big, knobbly hand on Fnaa’s shoulder.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Your Majesty,” he said. “You were ill; it’s not your fault. The men in this room, and Queen Gurun, will take care of everything. God made you king, and God will heal you. Then you’ll remember.”
One of the chiefs, a swarthy man who wore a wolf’s head for a headdress, jabbered excitedly in a foreign language. And yet to Fnaa it seemed a familiar language, somehow.
“Chief Zekelesh, of the Fazzan,” Gurun translated, “is afraid that some witch has put a spell on you.” So that chief, Fnaa thought, was of his mother’s people. Fnaa’s mother sometimes sang Fazzan songs.
The old man shook his head and said, “Not so, my lord! What power could such heathen mummery have over God’s anointed king? I tell you this is an illness that’ll pass. You’ll see.”
“Well, we’ve got him back, at least,” said the chief of the Wallekki. “If he had a fever in his brain, we’re lucky he didn’t die on us.”
“Not lucky, Chief Shaffur. It was God’s blessing,” said the old man.
“I think the king ought to rest now, in his own bed,” Gurun said. “It should help him to spend time in his own room and enjoy some healthy sleep. The people can be told that he was sick, but is now getting better, and they will see him soon.”
“I’ll see that the word is put out,” said Obst; for that was the old man’s name.
And so Fnaa went off to bed in King Ryons’ bedchamber, in one of the king’s nightshirts, and Gurun sat beside the bed and told him he’d done just fine with the chiefs. He might have enjoyed it if he weren’t worried that they’d kill him, by and by.
“That is foolish,” Gurun said. “None of those men will ever hurt you.”
“What about my mother? When will she be here?” Fnaa asked.
“As soon as I can arrange it. Tell me her name and what she looks like.”
“Her name is Dakl and she looks like me, with black hair and brown eyes, and she’s the only grown-up woman who’s a slave in that house.” Fnaa paused. “She was born Fazzan, like that man with the wolf’s head. She never told me that the men wore wolf’s heads.”
“I’ll see to it that she’s kept safe,” said Gurun. “And you may as well try to take a nap.”
Chapter 12
A Wanderer and His Baby
It was a frustrating day. Jack and Ellayne urgently wanted to see Gurun, but she and Fnaa were busy all day long behind closed doors. But at long last they got to see Obst, who came to them where they were waiting by the stables.
Their old friend rejoiced to see them and hugged them close.
“But what are you doing here?” he cried. “I never heard that you were coming, and no one told me you were here—otherwise I would have seen you right away!”
This was awkward. Fnaa would not have wanted them to tell Obst anything about him. Only Gurun was supposed to know.
“You want to tell me something; I can see it in your faces,” Obst said. “Well, here I am.”
Jack blurted out, “Is it a sin to tell a secret, when you promised not to tell—but you know you should?” Ellayne glared at him. “Blabbermouth!” she thought.
But this was Obst, who’d led them up Bell Mountain and almost died doing it. They would never have gotten there without him. Besides, he was a holy man.
“Jack, I can’t answer that,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you’d seen us when we came to the door of this palace yesterday, you’d know,” Ellayne thought. But she said, “What do you think of Ryons? Do you believe he’s really lost his memory and doesn’t know who he is anymore?”
Obst shrugged. “He says he has. Why should he
The hard faces softened. A tall old man with a grey beard got up and laid a big, knobbly hand on Fnaa’s shoulder.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Your Majesty,” he said. “You were ill; it’s not your fault. The men in this room, and Queen Gurun, will take care of everything. God made you king, and God will heal you. Then you’ll remember.”
One of the chiefs, a swarthy man who wore a wolf’s head for a headdress, jabbered excitedly in a foreign language. And yet to Fnaa it seemed a familiar language, somehow.
“Chief Zekelesh, of the Fazzan,” Gurun translated, “is afraid that some witch has put a spell on you.” So that chief, Fnaa thought, was of his mother’s people. Fnaa’s mother sometimes sang Fazzan songs.
The old man shook his head and said, “Not so, my lord! What power could such heathen mummery have over God’s anointed king? I tell you this is an illness that’ll pass. You’ll see.”
“Well, we’ve got him back, at least,” said the chief of the Wallekki. “If he had a fever in his brain, we’re lucky he didn’t die on us.”
“Not lucky, Chief Shaffur. It was God’s blessing,” said the old man.
“I think the king ought to rest now, in his own bed,” Gurun said. “It should help him to spend time in his own room and enjoy some healthy sleep. The people can be told that he was sick, but is now getting better, and they will see him soon.”
“I’ll see that the word is put out,” said Obst; for that was the old man’s name.
And so Fnaa went off to bed in King Ryons’ bedchamber, in one of the king’s nightshirts, and Gurun sat beside the bed and told him he’d done just fine with the chiefs. He might have enjoyed it if he weren’t worried that they’d kill him, by and by.
“That is foolish,” Gurun said. “None of those men will ever hurt you.”
“What about my mother? When will she be here?” Fnaa asked.
“As soon as I can arrange it. Tell me her name and what she looks like.”
“Her name is Dakl and she looks like me, with black hair and brown eyes, and she’s the only grown-up woman who’s a slave in that house.” Fnaa paused. “She was born Fazzan, like that man with the wolf’s head. She never told me that the men wore wolf’s heads.”
“I’ll see to it that she’s kept safe,” said Gurun. “And you may as well try to take a nap.”
Chapter 12
A Wanderer and His Baby
It was a frustrating day. Jack and Ellayne urgently wanted to see Gurun, but she and Fnaa were busy all day long behind closed doors. But at long last they got to see Obst, who came to them where they were waiting by the stables.
Their old friend rejoiced to see them and hugged them close.
“But what are you doing here?” he cried. “I never heard that you were coming, and no one told me you were here—otherwise I would have seen you right away!”
This was awkward. Fnaa would not have wanted them to tell Obst anything about him. Only Gurun was supposed to know.
“You want to tell me something; I can see it in your faces,” Obst said. “Well, here I am.”
Jack blurted out, “Is it a sin to tell a secret, when you promised not to tell—but you know you should?” Ellayne glared at him. “Blabbermouth!” she thought.
But this was Obst, who’d led them up Bell Mountain and almost died doing it. They would never have gotten there without him. Besides, he was a holy man.
“Jack, I can’t answer that,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“If you’d seen us when we came to the door of this palace yesterday, you’d know,” Ellayne thought. But she said, “What do you think of Ryons? Do you believe he’s really lost his memory and doesn’t know who he is anymore?”
Obst shrugged. “He says he has. Why should he
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