Frederick’s appearance suddenly had Tristan feeling rebellious again. “Walk with me,” he said to Frederick, despite Wigg’s imperious command to stay put until he was called for. “I want to stretch my legs.”
Tristan’s brother-in-law narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “Won’t Wigg be angry?” he asked. “From what I’ve heard, that old wizard is already upset with you enough.”
“He’s the supreme, all-knowing Lead Wizard of the Directorate isn’t he?” Tristan asked sarcastically. “If he can find me in all of the Hart-wick Woods, then he can certainly find me in this drafty old palace.” He turned on his heel and purloined two crystal wineglasses from a serving tray that one of the waiters held as he bustled by, offering one to Frederick. Next, Tristan stopped another of them and promptly commandeered an entire bottle. “Reinforcements,” he said proudly. “Let’s go.” As the prince sauntered along the ornate marble halls with Frederick, it felt good to be away from the hubbub and out on his own again. He quickly drank a full glass of wine, and then another, Frederick doing the same. Eventually they stopped before a large staircase, walked down it, and found themselves standing in the midst of one of the queen’s many magnificent gardens. The stars were out, as were the three red moons, and the night sound of the tree frogs could be heard all around them. The prince found the peacefulness reassuring.
Tristan poured himself some more wine and turned to Frederick. “They’re all pretty concerned, aren’t they?” he asked.
“Not just them,” Frederick said, “but your sister and I, as well. And we have a right to be. Sometimes it seems you care more about your horse than you do your family. Do you want to go into more detail about what really happened up there today?”
Normally, Tristan would gladly have told Frederick about his bizarre experiences. But today something stopped him. He wasn’t even sure himself what exactly had transpired in those caves.
“I probably couldn’t explain what happened to me today if I tried,” he replied. “All I really want right now is to relax a little and forget it before Wigg, the grand inquisitor, comes looking for me again. You know, he can be a huge annoyance. I know he means well, as do the others of the Directorate, but sometimes I just want to be Tristan the citizen, not Tristan the prince.” He smiled conspiratorially. “All too often I quite enjoy doing exactly what they tell me not to,” he added, the wine beginning to swim in his head. “And if Wigg can’t find me tonight, then they can all go to thunder, the whole lot of them.”
Tristan and Frederick had met during the prince’s training in the Royal Guard, and the two had become so close that Frederick eventually took over personal responsibility for all of Tristan’s training. As a result they were without doubt the finest two swordsmen in the realm, with Frederick holding only a slight edge due to his size and strength. It had been a logical step for the prince to introduce Frederick to his sister Shailiha, and the romance had blossomed from there. Everyone in the royal family had approved, and the two had been married the following year in one of the largest ceremonies ever seen in Eutracia. A year later Shailiha was pregnant with her first child, and the entire kingdom was in joyous expectation of a new royal family member.
Smiling, Tristan put the wine bottle aside and punched Frederick on the arm, hard, as was his custom.
Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps the fact that the two of them had such a healthy rivalry in all things physical. In any event, the challenge had been made, and Frederick smiled knowingly as he uncoupled the silver breastplate from his chest. He immediately struck the prince in the chest so hard that Tristan dropped his wine glass and fell to the ground.
And so it began. In a second, they were on top of each other like a pair of schoolboys at play. Tristan jumped up and grabbed Frederick from behind, only to find himself back down on the ground again.
Frederick promptly tried to jump on top of him, only to discover that the prince was gone and standing above him, grinning wickedly. Too late, Frederick saw that the bottle had reappeared in Tristan’s hand, and before he could escape the inevitable, his head had been drenched in wine.
“There!” the prince shouted happily. “That serves you right for making my sister pregnant, you scoundrel!” Soon the two of them were laughing so hard that Frederick needed help up, but Tristan was barely able to give it, as they found themselves slipping and sliding in the mud created by the spilled wine and the crushed flowers that lay in ruins around them. Eventually the prince fell down next to Frederick, and the two of them sat there in the mud, laughing. Tristan grabbed a small handful of mud and pushed it into the side of Frederick’s cheek. They were now both completely filthy, Tristan even worse than before, and they each felt as if their laughter would never stop.
Frederick finally found his footing and stood up, still laughing. “You’re in a particularly rebellious mood today.” He snickered. “May the Afterlife help you once the Directorate gets their hands on you tonight! But in case you have forgotten, I have other places to go, and other things to attend to. There is still much to do this evening, and that doesn’t include spending any more time with the likes of a ne’er-do-well such as you!” He looked down at Tristan’s dirty vest and red-stained trousers with a look of mock superiority, quite understanding that he was equally dirty. He started to strap on his breastplate. “You might also consider a change of clothes.” He chuckled. “In case you have forgotten, this evening is all about you.” He waved a great tree trunk of an arm at the edifice of the brightly lit palace. “And despite how grand I’m sure tonight will be, I’m told that it’s nothing compared to the actual coronation itself.” He shook his head slightly as he looked down at the recalcitrant member of the royal house who sat in the mud at his feet, and one corner of his mouth came up. “Take care of yourself,” he said ruefully, thinking of the Directorate. “I believe there may be much more to come for you this night that you may not be pleased with. And now a good evening to you, Prince Filthy.” Frederick then smiled, bowed mockingly to the prince, and slowly walked back into the palace.
Tristan stood and watched as Frederick made his way back into the palace. A good man, the prince thought. And the father of Shailiha’s unborn child.
But Tristan’s good mood slowly began to dissipate as he resignedly made his way back through the crowds, his head slowly clearing from the wine. He tried to ignore the even more bizarre looks he received as he negotiated his way down the halls and back to the Chamber of Supplication. The ornate, congested room seemed even busier than before, but blessedly there was as yet no sign of Wigg.
Once more alone and lonely in a crowd of hundreds, Tristan resignedly sat down in one of the plush supplicant’s chairs and cast his eyes apprehensively to the double mahogany doors at the other side of the room.
4
Tristan had indeed been correct in guessing that Wigg was in a foul mood. In truth the wizard realized he had no right to be angry with Tristan, or Shailiha either, for that matter. Instinctively he knew that the prince must have found the Caves by accident, except how he had found them the old one could not imagine. No one had visited the Caves for centuries. Until today. Of all of the people to have gone there, Tristan was the worst possible choice for so many reasons. And now, this close to the coronation, was the worst possible time. In addition, the appearance of the blood stalker had badly unnerved the old wizard, partly because a stalker had not been seen in over two centuries, and partly because it had been his old friend Phillius. He knew it was not anger at the prince and his sister that drove his emotions. It was worry for the future.