A Tale From Long Ago: Part Two

     “Yes?” Again they were under the palm tree in the garden. Setiir sat gracefully on the carved stone bench. Tiran stood behind her, towering over her fragile form. She glanced up at him.

     “How did you come to serve Spirata in the first place?”

     Tiran looked down at Setiir’s tiny veiled head. He knew that the Lupess hated covering her head, but it was practical in the scorching heat of the desert. Now, in the cool twilight of evening, Setiir hugged the gauzy folds about her and shivered. “Poltotem had my father killed because he fought on the side of Spirata. I simply followed in my father’s footsteps. I didn’t know the whole story. I wonder how many do.

     “I don’t want to rule, Tiran, but I do want to avenge my parents’ death.”

     “I don’t think you can have one without the other, Setiir. But the thing to worry about now is how to accomplish both.”

     “There are two people in the kingdom who are loyal to me, you and Chazra.” She smiled wryly.

     Tiran took a deep breath. It was either now or never. “There could be more.”

     “How do you mean?”

     “They aren’t exactly reputable characters, but are capable.”

     “Who?”

     “The members of the Thieves Guild. They hold more power than any king did yet. Their leader is a Xweetok named Mikenta; he hates the king with a vengeance, and he was a friend of your father.”

     “How did my father make friends with a thief?”

     “I’m not sure. But Mikenta would help you.”

     “Where can I meet this Mikenta?”

     --------

     In the dusky twilight of the next night Setiir and Tiran left the palace. Setiir was again bundled into her huge purple cloak, and Tiran carried a sword. They walked quickly until they came to the outskirts of the city. Here stood an old dilapidated temple of some long forgotten goddess worshiped by the two Lupes’ ancestors. Setiir shivered as they approached the cold stone walls sheathed in shadows. Although Tiran had told her all about this place, it still had a macabre atmosphere for the tiny Lupess. When they were within ten feet of the huge carved stone door, two identical Kougras leaped out from the all-concealing gloom.

     “Halt in the name of our master!” Both twins held sharp curved daggers of the most morbid description. Setiir felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, but clung to consciousness with a vengeance.

     Tiran spoke, his voice strong. “Lower your weapons; Mikenta would not wish to hurt the princess Setiir.”

     The guards whispered excitedly, “The true Queen!”

     “What do we do?”

     “Bring her to the master.” The twins straightened up and bowed in unison to Setiir. “We are honored by your presence, your Majesty. Please follow us; we will bring you to the Master.” The identical Kougras led the way through the gargantuan doors into the murky shadows of the decrepit temple. The huge building was full of twisting and turning passageways and corridors. Setiir soon had no idea where they were in relation to the world outside. It seemed to her that a whole civilization could exist in here without Ketia being any wiser. She wasn’t far wrong.

     They stopped suddenly in front of another large door, this one made of thick strong oak. A Kougra stepped forward and knocked loudly. The door swung open.

     “The princess Setiir, your Eminence.” Then, remembering Tiran, “Accompanied by her bodyguard.” Setiir would have snickered under less imposing circumstances. Tiran was certainly big enough for a bodyguard.

     “Enter.”

     Out of the shadowy halls and into the lamp lit room they went, leaving the two guards behind them. Before them stood a Blue Draik, fur slightly graying at the temples but not yet old.

     “So you have discovered your true heritage?” He softly addressed Setiir, who stood shivering under her thin linen robed. He called sharply to the guards, “Mirkit, Tirkit, Bring more fuel for the fire.” And, turning to Setiir, “We are closer to the river here and the rushes that grow here burn well for a fire. Now Milady, how did you discover this valuable bit of information?”

     “From a scroll in the palace library. No one else goes there.”

     “I see. And Chazra confirmed your suspicions?”

     “How do you know about Chazra?” the tiny Lupe asked in surprise.

     “She is my sister.”

     “Oh!”

     “Very fond of your Lady Mother she was,” he added, softly,

     “As were we all.”

     Mikenta acknowledged Tiran's presence with a nod and, “And you led her here, Tiran, son of Valatrop.”

     “It seemed the only thing to do, sir.”

     “You are quite right.” The Draik became business-like. “How many men do you need?”

     “You mean you’ll help me?”

     “Well, what did you expect?” Mikenta’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not overly fond of treachery, nor treacherous persons.”

     “I don’t suppose an all out war would be at all prudent.” Setiir pondered. “So it’s not the men I am worried about (although those too I thank you for), but the means. Something more along the lines of trickery?”

     Mikenta raised a finger. “One demand I make, Milady, and that is that after you ascend the throne you deliver up your uncle to me.”

     “Which one?”

     “Spirata. Poltotem is weak, but his brother was the root from which this trouble sprang.”

     “That I shall do.”

     “The Royal Court moves to the River City for the summer in two weeks,” suggested Tiran. “What about a kidnapping?”

     “But what to do with the king when we get him? I don’t want to harm him.” The Lupess leaned her small elbows on the thief king’s desk. The Draik smiled at her naïveté.

     “My dear, what else would you do?”

     Setiir’s green eyes narrowed. “If I know my uncle, deprived of the crown, he would never show his face in the city again from shame.”

     “What of his daughters? The queen is dead, I know, but the two princesses must be thought of.”

     “I don’t want to hurt them ether,” Setiir insisted stubbornly.

     “You will have to deal with them later on,” Mikenta cautioned.

     “They can keep their titles and everything else except the right to the throne. They will be like my little sisters. After all, Ritiki is twelve and Tenkta is but ten. I am sure they are fond of me.”

     “But are they not also fond of their father?”

     “Not over much, I think.”

     Tiran laughed. “Their beloved father is but an unbending tyrant in their eyes.”

     “So ‘tis the way of royalty!” sang Setiir.

     --------

      “Two more weeks, only two more weeks,” Tiran muttered, bowing and smiling at two giggling court ladies as they passed. Count Tiran was quite a court favorite. The big Lupe barely noticed the ladies' twitters. No, he had more important things on his mind, such as how to get Setiir out of the way during the actual kidnapping. His tiny Lupess was an excellent diplomat and extremely good at getting her own way, but Tiran was not going to let her put herself in danger. Setiir would not have approved of his use of the possessive pronoun.

     “Hello, Setiir,” he said as the Lupess sharply rounded the corner.

     Setiir huffed. “Can anyone startle you?!”

     “I don’t think so; no one has yet.” He grinned.

     “Some people...” she muttered darkly.

     “I’m just lucky to not be as jumpy as you are.”

     Setiir glared at him playfully. “I have the oddest impulse to ruffle your scalp-fur!”

     Tiran raised an eyebrow. “Can you reach it?” Not waiting for her reply, he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder.

     “Tiran! Put me down!” She beat her little fists on his back and laughed.

     “Ruffle my fur first,” he demanded. Solemnly Setiir rumpled his fur with her tiny fingers. Tiran set her down. Setiir straightened her linen sheath dress and ran off before Tiran could catch her. Panting, she leaned against a wall and was startled to here voices on the other side.

     “I’m right next to the throne room,” she thought, straining her ears to listen.

     “Yes, Majesty.”

     “You are quite sure?”

     “Yes, Majesty, it is as we say.”

     “Then she knows. The child would have made a powerful ally.” The king sighed. Understanding flooded Setiir’s mind. They were talking about her! And the two other voices were the Kougra twins. Tiran, she had to find Tiran!

     --------

     “Setiir! What happened?!” Tiran almost ran into his Lupess who was gasping for breath and clutching her weak knee. She tottered dizzily and he leaned her against him, the top of her head barely reaching his chest.

     “King,” she gasped. “He knows!”

     “What is he planning to do?”

     “I don’t know; I heard him through the wall. I don’t think he knows I was listening.”

     “Well, that’s something, anyway.” Tiran forced her to sit down and lean against the cool stone wall. “Wait here.” He went of to find the king and counteract the damage if he could.

     --------

     King Poltotem sat on his throne, staring moodily at the floor. The royal Kyrii looked up as the tall shadow Lupe came into the throne room.

     “Your Majesty.” Tiran bowed smoothly.

     “Ah, Count Tiran...” Poltotem said rather vaguely.

     “If his Highness will permit, I might have a solution to your problem.”

     The king started. “How do you know about that?” he snapped.

     Tiran shrugged. “News travels fast in a palace... besides, your informants are not overly scrupulous.”

     Poltotem relaxed back into his gloomy state. “What would you propose?”

     “The court goes to the River City in two weeks, does it not?”

     “You are correct.”

     “It is quite probable that the princess might meet with some unfortunate accident during the journey. After all traveling by caravan is known to be dangerous...”

     “Yes, but how to go about it?”

     Tiran winced as the king slammed the end of his scepter on the tiled floor in frustration. The big Lupe was not overly fond of sharp, grating noises. “The princess Setiir wanders off to examine some unusual flower down by the river bank. She loses her balance. The whole thing is, of course, an accident.”

     The Kyri cackled gleefully. “Yes and there will be a promotion for you, Tiran!”

     “Your Grace is generous.” Tiran bowed himself out of the room, heaving a sigh of relief. Now there was only Spirata...

     --------

     “What news do you bring?” the old Hissi asked.

     “The king plans to move the court to the River City for the summer as always.” For the second time that day Tiran repeated the ghastly formula. “It is quite probable that he might have some unfortunate accident on the way... after all travel by caravan is notoriously dangerous. What could be more natural than Poltotem’s beloved brother ruling the kingdom in his stead until his little daughters are grown?”

     Spirata stroked his chin with a gnarled claw. “Yes... and the poor dear cubs will by some mysterious disease never reach maturity. You shall have any rank you wish for when this is over, Tiran, I shall not forget my allies, nor my enemies...”

     Repressing a shudder, the shadow Lupe made his way back into the night.

     --------

     Setiir gazed critically into her mirror of polished bronze. After all the biannual ‘moving day’ of the entire Ketian royal court was a holiday. Again her curiosity pricked her. What in all Neopia had Tiran said to make both her uncles cooperate? Oh well, he said it would be okay and she trusted him. After all, you can’t go through life not trusting anyone, and the tall shadow Lupe seemed to have an aura of trustworthiness, or just plain worthiness, about him. It was rather annoying of him to follow her around like a huge silent body guard all day, though. Plus it generated a lot curiosity and whispering. She reached for her little jar of kohl and carefully applied a thin line to the delicate curves of her eyelids. Even though she would be riding in a litter, the makeup was necessary to protect her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. Again she studied the mirror. Her small pale face was reflected there, dark kohl contrasting strikingly with soft white fur.

     “Milady, your litter awaits you.” Chazra winked at her tiny mistress. The pets carrying her litter had been ‘replaced’ with trusted employees of the old Mynci’s thief-brother.

     Tiran came in. That habit of his just coming find her all the time was starting to get on Setiir’s nerves. “Come on, Setiir, I’ll walk out with you.”

     Chazra, glared at the huge shadow Lupe suspiciously and muttered darkly under her breath, “He’s not nearly good enough for her.”

     Out in the courtyard of the palace, richly dressed pets were standing in little groups and talking in cultured well mannered voices. Setiir smiled and waved at Ritiki and Tenkta, who waved back. Her litter was to be carried by three large male Lutaris, natives of the river district. Setiir had to crane back her head to look up at them, though Tiran was still by far the tallest person there.

     “I feel like a midget,” the little Lupe complained.

     “We aren’t giants, Milady,” the blue Lutari said.

     “You’re just undersized,” Tiran teased.

     Setiir put on a face of amazement. “You are a freakishly large man and yet you make fun of my size?” Everyone near them laughed.

     “She got you there, Count Tiran!” A Xweetok duchess giggled. Setiir climbed on into the litter and Tiran mounted an Uni named Yquar. In a few minutes the whole party was off.

     --------

     “Your Majesty.” Tiran bowed.

     The caravan had halted near a shallow place in the river to rest and eat lunch. King Poltotem was noticeably ill at ease. When Tiran spoke to him, the royal Kyrii jumped.

     “If your grace would just consent to accompany me...”

     The king stood up very quickly, knocking over one of his chief advisors. “Yes, yes, of course!”

     --------

     Setiir hurried to the very end of the caravan, where there was a nondescript curtained litter. The Lupe went up to it and called softly, “Uncle! All is ready!”

     A Hissi with a large black cloak and hood concealing his features slithered out from behind the curtains. Setiir could almost hear Spirata grinning eagerly.

     “Lead the way.”

     --------

     Poltotem fidgeted nervously. Tiran sighed. Babysitting kings was not all it was chalked up to be. “I assure you, your majesty, the princess is wholly under my power. She will be here in a moment.”

     “I know that!” the king snapped at him. Suddenly there was a rustle of reeds and Setiir (with Spirata in tow) came into view.

     “Spirata!” the Kyri screeched.

     “Poltotem!” the Hissi spat.

     There was another rustle, this time from all sides. First, came a ring of Mikenta’s men led by the Draik himself, then the courtiers, curious to see where their monarch had wondered off to.

     Setiir spoke loudly for all to hear. “Uncles, I ask you openly in the sight of many respectable people to admit to everyone what you did to my parents.”

     “I knew the girl couldn’t be trusted!” screamed Poltotem. Murmurs came from the crowd.

     “Silence!” Mikenta commanded. Drawing out a cruel looking twisted dagger he advanced menacingly toward Spirata. “You are a foul villain, Spirata, but now you shall pay for your misdeeds. I saw you kill the Sheftu, the true king and this girl’s father.”

     The Hissi’s voice rose. “Don’t listen to him! He is a thief and a scoundrel!”

     “I watched you kill him with those two cursed hands. Admit it! Admit that you killed your brother for a chance at the throne!” Mikenta was almost on at his throat now.

     “I admit it!” Spirata cackled madly, “but I’ll still win! I shall still be king, Mikenta, and nothing you or your puny little band of men can do will stop me!” The insane pet lunged and grabbed Setiir, holding the diminutive Lupess in front of him like a shield. She tried to struggle, but Spirata held her with all the strength of the mad. “Take one step closer and I’ll kill her!” he screeched.

     Suddenly from the ring of Mikenta’s thieves came an arrow, shot by one of the more excitable men. It struck Spirata squarely in between the shoulders and sent him into the river. With his last bit of strength, the doomed Hissi caught hold of Setiir’s dress and dragged her after him.

     “Setiir!” Tiran screamed. He plunged into the river after her.

     Setiir felt herself going down, down, down, pulled by her uncle’s weight. Her chest hurt and her ears rang. Just when the world was growing black she felt another, more benevolent pressure as Tiran wrapped his arm around her waist. Then the world went black.

          --------

     Slowly the world swam into focus. The light was too bright. She would have to get Chazra to shade the windows.

     With a start Setiir remembered. “Tiran!” she cried.

     A snore came from the chair beside her bed. Tiran! The big Lupe blinked sleepily. “So you’re awake.”

     Chazra bustled in. “That’s the understatement of the century!” she snorted.

     Setiir rubbed her head. “What happened?”

     “Your uncle fell into the river and pulled you in with him. This young man jumped in and saved you.” The old Mynci nodded in Tiran’s direction. She added under his breath, “I still say he isn’t worthy of her.”

     “Tiran?”

     “Yes?”

     “Thanks.”

     Tiran leaned over and took her hand. “You're welcome.”

     Suddenly Mikenta burst through the door.

     “Well, you were right, my dear. Poltotem has bolted!” He looked sharply from one Lupe to the other. “I see...”

The End