Surprised to be Involved (Per Usual)

Surprised to be Involved (Per Usual)

It was a clear night, and the air was crisp and bracing. The moon and the stars cast an ethereal glow on the Royal Palace towering before us. In different circumstances, you might’ve thought the setting was downright romantic. But romance was the furthest thing from my mind. I was with Gourry—not exactly a guy with a knack for romancing a girl. That aside, we were on a mission.

On either side of the enormous closed gates that led to the Palace were twin turrets, each topped with great lanterns that glowed eerily in the night.

“We’ll sneak in through here,” I whispered to Gourry from behind a tree that hid us from the road.

“You mean we have to stop hiding now?” Gourry’s voice trembled in the dark. He was the deadliest swordsman I’d ever met, but he could also be the biggest baby as things got even a mite scary. So it was no surprise that he resisted the idea of venturing out into the open, or that he tried to protest it in completely ineffective whisper-yells.

Oh, and just so we’re straight, Gourry and I aren’t bandits. We don’t make it our profession to go sneaking into mansions and palaces to steal people’s valuables.

Though, I admit, I’ve been tempted now and again.

But looks can be deceiving. Poking around the woods like that, in the cover of night, we made an awfully suspicious pair. If townspeople spotted us and started hollering, “Stop, thief!” and pelting us with rocks, it would’ve been impossible to explain ourselves. And, if you saw me, you might’ve been convinced I was a bandit. And a damn sexy one at that!

From head to toe, I was a vision in black. I wore a slim-fitting pair of trousers over a tunic I’d bought somewhere in our travels. The tunic was tight and pinched my armpits and butt, but I still looked ever so fetching in it, if I do say so myself. Girding my waist was a leather belt that showed off my curvy hips. Okay, maybe they aren’t so curvy, but a girl can dream, right? Finally, lending that touch of mystique to my ensemble, I wore a mask. If only I could see through those ratty little holes I’d cut into my mask, I might have tripped and stumbled a bit less as we made our way through the woods.

Both Gourry and I wore swords at our sides, only adding to the impression that we were a couple of assassins trying to infiltrate the Royal Palace. But, hey, you’re never going to find me on a mission without my weapon, no matter what some naive passerby might think. It was a difficult game of stealth, but I, Lina Inverse—the greatest sorceress this world has ever seen—was ready for danger!

Plus, what kind of girl do you think I am? I would never take a job where I had to kill and steal from the good guys. I got standards, you know.

“We’ll Sneak in through this way ‘cause it’s where they’d least expect it,” I reasoned with Gourry.

“That’s your thinking?” he snapped back at me. “Just because they don’t expect it doesn’t mean they won’t be waiting for us with their pointy spears.

“Oh, stop whining,” I shot back as I crept out toward the road. Gourry didn’t budge from behind the tree. “Let’s go!” I whispered to him as loudly as I could and gestured for him to make tracks.

He protested a little more—how funny to see Gourry, the bearer of the Sword of Light, acting like a wiener. When he finally snuck toward me, I rolled my eyes and stealthily led the way.

“This city is in worse shape than I ever imagined,” Sylphiel said in a meek voice, sniffling tears away as she gazed into her after-dinner mint tea and pushed aside her long, glossy black hair. She was a little older than me and strikingly beautiful. And, in her sleek priestess’ robes, she really did look quite dazzling.

Damn her!

We sat in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in some tucked-away alley. The grub wasn’t bad, but business was slow. It wasn’t because of the location, as you might suspect—it seemed business was dead-as-a-doornail on every avenue we’d walked down.

That was a shock. We were in Saillune City, after all, the capitol of the Holy Kingdom of Saillune. It had always thrived with merchants and artisans, a great center of learning, culture, and music. But all that had changed lately. Now, it was in the midst of complete turmoil.

We hadn’t come all that way just for sightseeing, though. We were escorting Sylphiel, who wanted to stay with relatives in Saillune City after losing her other family. Gourry and I wanted to keep her away from trouble, and in Saillune, trouble-making was practically a requirement for residency.

“What’s this city in such a big mess for, anyway?” Gourry stared blankly into space. My traveling companion was a handsome male specimen and a lethal swordsman if there ever was one, but I sometimes suspected warm bean paste sat where his brain ought to be.

“Um,” I managed, trying not to choke on my pork sausage. More than anything, I wanted to bonk him on the forehead with my salad fork, but I resisted. Sylphiel struggled to gulp down her mint tea, while I could feel her eyes narrow.

With both of my hands, I pressed down hard on my temples. It was all I could do to keep my head from bursting with frustration.

“Wait a sec,” I said through gritted teeth. “Are you trying to tell me you have no idea why this city is in the state it’s in? Haven’t you been listening? “

Gourry blinked. “Listening to what? “

“Whaa!” I erupted. “It’s all Sylphiel and I have been talking about during our whole trip here! Where have you been?! “

“Do you think I actually waste my time listening to everything you say, Lina?” He shook his head and chuckled, clearly proud of his remark.

“Shut your pie hole!” Not the snappiest comeback but it was all I could muster considering how frazzled Gourry had gotten me. “And don’t smile so much—you look like an idiot,” I added for affect before sinking back in my chair with a groan.

“Anyway,” I said, returning to my plate. “The short version is that there’s a major family feud going on here, and this city is ground zero. “

“Huh,” replied Gourry, biting into a turnip.

“About six months ago,” I continued, slowly and clearly for Gourry’s sake, “the king fell ill. He’s still got his marbles, but he’s in no physical shape to get out of bed, much less rule his kingdom. No one knows for sure, though. It’s all rumor.”

“Hmm,” replied Gourry, biting into another turnip. I still wasn’t sure he was listening.

“So that started all this talk about who’ll take the throne after the king dies. And that’s when all this trouble started brewing. “

“Huh.” And there he went munching on his fifth turnip. That got me worried; not only was Gourry a little slow on the uptake, but turnips cause severe gas.

If he was going to ignore me now and stink up the inn later, I was going to have to get rough with him. I used every last fiber of my patience to keep from jamming that turnip up his nose. I leaned in toward him, since what I had to tell next was best told in secret. I still made sure to breathe through my mouth.

“A bunch of assassins—hired by either the townsfolk or members of the royal house—have begun making attempts to rub out the First Royal Successor. Since the successor’s apparently aware of this, he’s ferreted himself away from his own palace and is probably curled up in the fetal position somewhere in the city. “

Gourry nodded his head solemnly. “The bottom line,” I went on, “is that now Saillune City is crawling with all sorts of assassins and conspirators eager to take over the throne.” I sat back and took a deep breath. “Got it? “

Gourry stared at me with intent, unblinking eyes, then shook his head. “Not really. “

“Ughhh!!” I shrieked as I lunged for Gourry’s neck. “You brick-headed mushbrain! “

“Hey!” Gourry cried. “Lina, calm down! I’m kidding! I get it! “

Gourry sat back down and sighed. “Hey,” he asked. “Um, what’s the deal with this First Royal Successor, anyway? “

I braced for the worst and just tried to breathe deeply.

Sylphiel knitted her eyebrows in disbelief.

“It’s all right, Sylphiel, let me handle this.” I turned back to Gourry and growled, “What are you talking about?! The First Royal Successor is the first in line to take the throne! “

“No, it’s not that,” Gourry answered mildly. “I was just wondering why you’re calling him that. Isn’t First Royal Successor just a fancy way of saying he’s the prince? “

Twitch!

“Well, yes,” Sylphiel said calmly. Her eyes had that faraway look they often had, like she was daydreaming. “The Prince of Saillune, you could say, is hiding somewhere in this city from royally-appointed assassins. It’s rather… romantic, isn’t it?” She melted into her words with a long sigh.

“Jeez!” I was surrounded! A dim-witted swordsman on one side, and a sappy schoolgirl on the other. Can’t a certifiably sane sorceress catch a break in this world?!

As I leaned back, the legs of my chair slid out from under me, and I went tumbling to the floor. I slumped there, festooned with salad leaves, and fumed. Life can be cruel sometimes, can’t it?

“Hey, Lina!” said Gourry, craning over the table to have a look at me. “What’s wrong?! “

“Did something happen?” Sylphiel blinked.

I picked a piece of shrimp off my tunic and munched on it. Not bad.

“It’s nothing,” I grunted, chewing.

Then, as calmly as I could, I picked myself up off the floor, straightened out my chair and, with a deep breath, sat back down. All I wanted was to finish my meal in peace.

I decided not to tell Sylphiel or Gourry that I’d actually met the First Royal Successor before. It had been awhile back but he’d certainly left a lasting impression, and not necessarily a flattering one. But I wasn’t about to burst Sylphiel’s bubble— I figured I’d let her have her fantasies for the time being.

“Anyway, Sylphiel,” l said after a minute. “Just to be on the safe side, you told your relatives you were on your way here, didn’t you? So they know we’re coming? “

“I did,” Sylphiel replied. “I sent a message to them back in Cannon City. They should’ve gotten it by now. “

This was puzzling. We’d been in the restaurant all evening, but none of her relatives had shown up to meet us. “I wonder what’s holding them up?” I asked. “Some priestly duties or something? What do you think? “

Sylphiel took a sip of her tea. “I suppose that’s it.” I sensed some wariness in her tone, and her face seemed to have darkened. She thought for a moment, then added, “To be honest, what I need is a job. I need to stand on my own-two feet; my parents’ death convinced me of that.” She shook her head and stared at her tea. “But look at the mess this city is in. I’d be lucky to find a job sweeping the street. ‘‘

“Look,” I told her sternly, “You can find a job once things settle down. Right now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry. “

I love food metaphors. They’re yummy.

Sylphiel nodded her head but kept her eyes lowered. I might not have cheered her up, but at least Gourry Was keeping quiet. We gathered our things a few minutes later and ventured out into the darkening city

“Over there!” Sylphiel shouted excitedly. “The house with the brown tiled roof.” We stood on a quiet street, high above the city. The house she pointed to was just outside the Royal Palace in a district full of monuments and mansions.

About time, I thought, keeping it in my head to be polite. And before you ask your next question, yes, I can be polite.

It wasn’t just that Sylphiel’s family’s place was about three times as far as I’d expected it to be. There was something very unsettling about walking through the near-deserted Saillune City, particularly at night. There are few things more depressing than a thriving city on the skids—

I mean, the lack of fried meat products being sold on the street was almost enough to make a grown sorceress cry.

Before long, we were in front of the high walls that fortified the Royal Palace and Sylphiel’s home-to-be. It wasn’t very large—a mansion but on the small side, you might say— but it was sturdily built and beautiful. Just like me.

Sylphiel was spellbound by the sight of her family’s home. She looked back at us with a peaceful expression. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind coming in for a minute?” she asked Gourry.

“Uh… yeah,” he muttered. I couldn’t expect him to be any more articulate than that. Then he turned to me with a wary look on his face, scratching his cheek

“Yeah, Sylphiel,” I piped in. “This is as good a time as any to meet your family.”

I figured that delivering her to her family would conclude our arrangement: She would be properly deposited in Saillune City and could then settle up with the rest of the cash. It would be a good place to say our farewells and make sure she was squared away in her new surroundings among a bunch of people who, I might add, she barely knew. I like to make sure my clients are safe and happy when my business is finished. I’m like that.

Besides, Sylphiel still needed to explain exactly what had happened to her parents, and I figured it’d be best if Gourry and I were there to help fill in details. Gourry and I stood behind her as she clanged the wolf’s head knocker on the door several times. The air was still and silent after that, and we waited.

“Is no one home?” I finally asked.

Sylphiel shrugged her shoulders and slowly reached for the knocker again. But just as she did so, we sensed a presence on the other side of the door. The shuffling of feet and muttering of a voice sounded from inside the house.

The door groaned open just a crack, and a middle-aged man’s face appeared behind it. I got the feeling he had aged prematurely: there was life in his eyes, but his face was furrowed, and there were streaks of white running through his chestnut hair. He definitely gave the impression of a man with a lot on his mind.

His eyes settled on Sylphiel and he immediately beamed. “Ah!” he cried. “Sylphiel!” He threw the door open, flinging his arms out to give her a hug.

She ran into his embrace. “It’s been a long time, Grandpa Gray,” Sylphiel squeaked as she choked back her tears. I have to admit, I was a little verklempt myself.

“Too long,” Grandpa Gray replied in his thin, crackly voice. He shook his head and stared at her in disbelief. “My, my, you were but a child the last time I saw you. You’ve grown quite pretty indeed.”

He looked at her, taking in the warmth and joy of the moment, and then realized we were standing out in the open.

“Oh, but this is no place to dilly-dally,” he said. As he motioned for her to come inside, his eyes fell on Gourry and me.

He raised a bony trembling hand toward us. “And these people?” he asked. “Who are they?” I Couldn’t help but sense his suspicion. Frankly, it irritated me—after all, we’d just escorted his dear Sylphiel all the way there, and I’d have appreciated a simple thank you instead of a leery eye.

Sylphiel clasped her hands and turned toward us. “This is Miss Lina and Mister Gourry. They saved my life in Sairaag and escorted me all the way here.”

“My pleasure,” Mr. Gray muttered as he peered at us with his heavy-lidded eyes.

Mr. Gray wasn’t exactly the personable type, but times were rough and such that you couldn’t trust anybody anymore. I tried to keep that in mind as I took in Mr. Gray’s lousy attitude.

“Then I must certainly thank you for your troubles,” Mr. Gray offered.

Spare me the civility and gimme my money.

“No need to thank us,” I said haltingly. “It was our pleasure.”

“They were also involved in what happened in Sairaag,” Sylphiel said, stammering a bit. “I thought they could better explain the details to you.”

“I see…” Mr. Gray nodded with a huff. His eyes kept darting back and forth; he certainly didn’t seem reassured, and in fact, he was starting to give me the willies. “Perhaps tomorrow we could arrange some sort of—”

“Grandfather!” Sylphiel snapped, raising her eyebrows sternly. I’d never seen that side of her, and I gotta say I was impressed.

“We don’t mind at all,” I said with a wave of my arms. “We just wanted to say hello and see Sylphiel off. We’ll take our leave and leave you be.”

I noticed a sudden change wash over Mr. Gray. “Ah, yes,” he mumbled. He shuffled his feet and stammered, searching for a way to apologize. “It’s just that at the moment, the place is a bit… uh… unsightly. Yes! There’s a mess everywhere. Let me go in and tidy up a bit before I welcome you in.” He twittered strangely and backed away

What’s up with him? Who’s he kidding with all that yammering and shuffling?

Having squeaked out his little explanation, Mr. Gray slammed his door shut. From outside, we could hear rustling and puttering as he shoved things here and there.

“I wonder what’s come over Grandfather?” Sylphiel thought aloud. She frowned and leaned up against a pillar, clearly upset. I couldn’t help but be a bit weirded out myself. As for Gourry, I wasn’t sure he was taking any of this in; he just stood in the walkway, sniffing and chewing his fingernails.

We waited like that for what seemed like hours until Mr. Gray, with groomed hair and a fresh caftan, opened the door again and beckoned us inside. I caught a whiff of perfumes and bath oils as we entered the house and it reminded me that I needed a shower myself. Being a fortune-seeking adventurer can be hot, dirty work.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting,” Mr. Gray said. “Make yourselves comfortable.” He smiled, but I could tell he was trying awfully hard to be friendly.

Hey, buddy, don’t go through the trouble of being nice on my account. I’m used to jerks in this business.

Gourry and I glanced at each other and shrugged as we followed Sylphiel into the house.

“Here you go,” said a woman who was probably Mr. Gray’s wife, as she skipped in carrying a tea tray. “It’s not much to offer on such notice.”

“Thank you very much,” I muttered as I poured myself a cup of tea and looked over at Mr. Gray. That weirdo still had a fake smile plastered on his face. If he wasn’t our client’s grandfather, I swear I would’ve slapped the smile off right then and there.

“How’s Toran?” Sylphiel asked.

Mr. Gray looked vacantly at Sylphiel. “My son? He married a short time back. He opened a magic healing shop not far from here and we see him from time to time.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “Anyway,” he added, perking considerably, “what happened back in Sairaag?”

Whoah, he sure dropped that subject like a hot potato. Hmm… hot potatoes, not a bad idea.

Sylphiel, was who perched like a bird in her chair, blurted, “I think Miss Lina can explain everything better than I can.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. If I had to explain everything, going back to when Gourry and I first met, I’d be running at the mouth all evening and into the night. And, after days of arduous travel, I just didn’t have it in me.

“I guess,” I began. “Er… so first, there was Gourry and—”

“You! You’re that sorceress, aren’t you?!” blared a voice from the doorway.

I was relieved for the distraction, but not so relieved by what had distracted me. At the half-open door that led to the hallway stood a funny-looking man.

He was a stocky, bearded, chunky-looking fellow, not unlike a dwarf. In fact, he looked exactly like a dwarf—a dwarf that had been stretched out like dough with a rolling pin. Not a pretty sight. He looked about forty years old and could pass for a bandit chieftain if you smeared him with dirt, dressed him in chain mail, and broke a few more of his crooked teeth.

I knew that nasty face all too well.

“You know this little girl?” Mr. Gray asked, rather bewildered.

Little girl? It’s bad enough hearing that from Gourry, but a total stranger?!

Sylphiel’s and Mr. Gray’s eyeballs ping-ponged between the doorway-man and me, while Gourry just sat there, calmly nibbling on finger food and sipping tea.

The man chuckled heartily. “Yes, I do know her,” he said confidently. “You can put your mind at rest, Mr. Gray. She’s someone we can trust.”

Mr. Gray turned back to me and sighed as boulder had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Um, Grandfather… who is that strange man?” Sylphiel asked nervously.

“This is, uh… He sat up and said in a low, secretive tone, “I must not say it so loudly.”

He cast a look at the strange man, then back at his granddaughter. “This… is Master Philionel El Di Saillune. The First Royal Successor of the Holy Kingdom of Saillune.”

Now it was out.

After a short pause, Sylphiel squeaked an “Excuse me?” in a faint, broken voice. Little by little, she leaned in toward me.

“The P-P-Prince?” she whispered.

I turned to her and nodded gravely.

Sorry you had to find out like this, kid. The truth hurts, don’t it?

“Oh…” she moaned weakly. Then, sinking in her chair like a bag of dirt, she passed out.

* * *

After all the introductions, I began filling our guests in on the Sairaag episode. Just then, Mr. Gray’s wife appeared. She’d just been checking in on our fainting patient who was recuperating in her bed upstairs.

“Ah! Maria, how is Sylphiel doing?” Mr. Gray asked.

Maria shook her head and took a seat, a tiny smile on her lips.

“She’s sleeping peacefully,” she reported. “She was making terrible moaning sounds earlier, but now she’s nodded off, the poor thing.”

“I bet she’s just tuckered out from her journey. Now that she’s safe and sound, she finally feels safe to rest, you know?” I laughed as pleasantly as I could, wondering if I was at all convincing.

“Perhaps so,” said Mr. Gray in a weary tone and nodding his head.

Of course, I didn’t want to let on as to why Sylphiel had really passed out.

The shock had been too great, no doubt. Here she was imagining that the Prince of Saillune was this dreamy hunk of man only to find out that her dream prince was really a short, wart-nosed, middle-aged ogre. It’s too great a shock for almost anyone to bear, let alone a boy-crazy female of mating age. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming.

As for the ogre-prince, I’d run into him awhile back when he was on a secret mission of his own. So I had a bit of a heads-up on the situation.

Okay, I admit I was a little bummed out by this so-called prince. But it wasn’t just his looks—his personality bothered me to no end. He was so aggravating, I couldn’t think straight.

Phil finally sat up, his palms joined. “Well, then,” he said “I think it’s my turn to explain matters.” He bowed his head slowly and deeply as if he were trying to collect his thoughts.

He said there had been an assassination attempt on his royal life, but by using his skills of persuasion he’d been able to protect himself. Unfortunately, right after that, his people began to get knocked off like dominoes. Greatly disturbed by this turn of events, Phil had fled the Royal Palace in the hopes of baiting the assassins away from his courtiers and back to him. Since then, Phil had been in hiding in Mr. Gray’s home—a move that, so far, had been successful. His enemies hadn’t rooted him out and no one else in the royal court had been assassinated.

So that was why Mr. Gray had been nervous letting Gourry and me into his home. To him, we may as well have been assassins, and Mr. Gray wasn’t about to do something reckless and endanger his prince’s life.

Phil stood up and bowed again. “I believe I owe you an apology for all the trouble I caused you, Gray.”

“Excellency,” replied Mr. Gray, falling down on one knee, “it is my honor. You need not waste such words on me.”

Phil suddenly swung himself in our direction. “Now then, Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry,” he announced. “There’s one thing I would ask of you, if possible.”

The two of us looked at each other.

Great—here it comes.

We couldn’t exactly dash out of there. As much as Phil disgusted me, you can’t turn down a request made by a bona fide prince.

Dammit! Who wrote that rule? Let me at him!

“We’re just humble travelers,” I stammered, stealing a glance at Gourry, whose eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “We can’t offer to do much, but we’d be honored to hear your request.”

“As I mentioned before, I departed from the Royal Palace and have been in hiding for quite some time. My courtiers may have grown fearful for my safety, and I merely want to send them word that I’m alive and well. Any doubt to the contrary could lead to disaster; to avert that, I wish them to know I’m all right.”

Phil gestured toward Mr. Gray. “Gray here attends to his duties at the Temple of the Royal Palace once every five days, but I feel it would be too dangerous for a citizen of his standing to attempt this task.” He spun on his heels and leaned toward me. “So it falls to you, Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry.”

“I s-s-see,” I managed and folded my arms. From where I stood, I could smell the prince’s breath. Unfortunately for me, he’d had liver and onions for lunch.

It was obvious, given how dangerous the situation was, that we couldn’t just waltz through the front door of the Royal Palace to deliver the prince’s message. Could we perhaps get in contact with someone from the palace while he or she was out and about?

Drat! That wouldn’t work either. It was way too dangerous for any member of the royalty to go traipsing around town unprotected. If they had to leave the palace, which was rare nowadays, it would only be in the company of soldiers.

That left us with one option: sneaking in.

I had to admit; the idea got my juices flowing. I was in the mood for a little adventure.

“There are two people to whom I would entrust my message,” Phil said. “Conveying it to either of them will be sufficient. Neither of them must risk the danger of outside exposure, so to fulfill the task, you will need to infiltrate the Royal Palace. I dare say it’s dangerous work.”

No! Really?

“But—” A voice broke in. It was Gourry’s; I couldn’t believe he was actually listening, much less speaking up. “Do you have any clue who the leader of these assassins might be?”

Huh, did Mr. Bean paste just ask an intelligent question?

Of course, if Phil knew the name of their leader, there would be no reason for him to go through all this trouble just to deliver a message. He’d just have to take the baddies out with the rest of the garbage, and his troubles would be over.

Phil stood for a while stroking his chin whiskers with his stubby fingers before grunting, “There is somebody I suspect. Indeed, I can’t imagine it being anyone else.” He pounded a fist into his palm before adding, “The problem is I lack definite proof.”

“Well,” I shrugged, “if you’re almost sure who it is, why don’t Gourry and I sneak into the palace, find your man, and give him the smackdown of his life?” I twirled my sword in my hands. It had been too long since my last smackdown.

Phil chuckled and twiddled his fingers. He appeared to actually consider my suggestion for a moment before he narrowed his eyes and shot me a hard look.

“You don’t understand,” he said sternly. “My appearance may be deceiving, but I’m a pacifist. I would never resort to violence before exhausting any and all peaceful means of resolving conflict.” Phil flung his stocky arms behind his back and began pacing the room.

“Besides,” he went on, “I need incontrovertible proof that he is indeed the mastermind, including accounts from eyewitnesses I could trust, before I mete out any punishment upon him.”

Ugh… think things through? B-o-r-i-n-g.

I live for action, you see. If you tell me such-and-such is the bad guy, then get out of my way—I’m hunting that sucker down and beating him within an inch of his life. But Phil obviously liked to play by the rules and he was already stretching my patience pretty thin as it was.

Phil whipped around and faced us. For a stubby old guy, he was awfully fleet-footed. “Now, getting back to delivering my message. First, I’d like to know if you agree to the task before I tell you whom to deliver it to. There’s certainly no pressure; you may refuse if you wish and be happily on your way.” He kept looking from me to Gourry with one of those grim, this-is-no-joke kind of looks.

All right, all right. We’ll play the game your way, Sheesh.

I nodded in agreement and smiled as innocently as I could. “We’re in this already,” I said. “Helping Sylphiel get her here safely was our job. But after seeing this city in the mess it’s in, it’s obvious it was only a part of the job. Let’s finish it.”

“My apologies,” Phil replied, bowing deeply. He even seemed a little teary-eyed. “I judged you both rather hastily.”

I admit, Phil seemed like a standup guy. When he felt badly about something, he apologized with the modesty of one of his own subjects. He was a class act in that regard.

“Very well,” he went on. “I need my message delivered to two people: Clawfell, my closest aide, and Amelia.”

“Amelia?” I repeated. “That’s a weird name for a guy.” Phil smiled at my remark, and something glinted in his beady dark eyes.

“She’s a woman, actually.” He beamed. “Amelia is my daughter.”

“Daughter?!” Gourry and I blurted. I had to catch my breath, I was so caught off guard.

Phil having a daughter would mean that—how to put this mildly?—he had mated with someone. That was not only a frightening thought, it downright turned my stomach.

And theoretically this daughter would look like Phil. Yikes! My facial tics must’ve been less than subtle, because I noticed Mr. Gray glaring at me severely. “She’s quite pretty,” he snapped, hurling the words like darts. He leaned back in his chair and added, “She looks so much like her mother.”

Ah. A backhanded way of saying, “She couldn’t be pretty and look like Mr. Toad here, now could she?” I really wanted to change the subject.

“W-What about your wife?” I asked quickly.

“Yes,” sighed Phil, his face darkening as a forlorn smile spread across his lips. “My wife… she passed away several years ago.” My attempt at changing the subject had backfired badly. “Uh,” I fumbled, “my apologies.”

“Tut-tut,” said Phil with a wave of his hand. “Think nothing of it.”

A long, awkward silence followed. I fidgeted nervously and dared not say another word. The conversation had hit the skids pretty fast thanks to me.

“I realize it’s just speculation,” Gourry piped in, “but I gotta ask. Who do you think is pulling the strings?”

In a cautious voice, Phil answered, “Christopher Ul Brozz Saillune, the Second Successor to the Royal Throne.” He shook his head and covered his face with his hairy hands. “He is my younger brother.”

Which brings us back to Gourry and me trying to sneak into the palace. I did feel a little sketchy, lurking around in the dark like an overambitious thief, but I still preferred it to the oppressive gloom of Mr. Gray’s place. Talk about a downer—it’s one thing to be the target of assassination, but it’s way worse when your own brother’s trying to do the assassinating.

We made sure no one was on the road before darting across like a couple of rabbits. Crouched behind the turrets of the gate, we watched the bobbing heads of the patrolling guards pass back and forth. When they reached the far sides of the gate, we rose above the wall with the help of my levitation spell.

Nice. I made sure Gourry was lying as flat as he could atop the gate before turning my head ever so slightly to check for guards.

Even nicer.

Not a single guard stood at the sentry. I made a mental note to write the palace guards a thank-you letter for their carelessness.

From where we lay, Gourry and I had a totally unobstructed and admittedly awesome view of the Royal Palace. Phil had spelled out how everything in the complex was laid out, but he couldn’t help us with the positioning of the guards. I scanned the grounds to get a sense of who was on patrol and how menacing each was.

As I took in the view, I was distracted by the most ginormous temple that I’d ever laid eyes on. On either side of the temple, like minor deities attending this huge god, stood two smaller dormitories. The one on the right housed the priests, the one on the left the priestesses. Phil’s daughter, Amelia, lived in the priestess’ dormitory. She was supposed to be some big-time high priestess.

Behind the temple stood the equally ginormous central palace. That was where Phil used to hang his hat, er, crown, and where Clawfell and the string-puller Christopher both had their digs now.

The whole complex was so big it started to mess -with my mind. One thing was for sure: you could cast a gazillion lighting spells at a gazillion different lanterns all around the courtyard and you still wouldn’t be able to light more than pitiful little patches of the whole place.

Since so few guards patrolled the complex, I headed for Clawfell first. I figured Phil would sooner try to contact his own daughter before anyone else, and his enemies would, I was sure, suspect the same, landing the heavy patrols by the priestess’ dormitory. Using that tack, Clawfell felt like the safer bet. And sneaking into the central palace seemed like more fun.

Am I making sense? Stop me if I’m going too fast for ya. I turned back to Gourry, who was still face down on top of the gate. “Gourry,” I whispered. “There’s probably something I should tell you.”

He groaned and lay his head dejectedly into his arms. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Quit your whining. All I’m saying is if we run into trouble, don’t rely on my offensive magic; my attack spells are only at about half-power in here.”

He looked up at me to stare stupidly. “You mean it’s that time of the month again?”

Men! Is that their explanation for everything? “No, dumbass!” I hissed as I tried to jab at his forehead with my boot. “My offensive magic’s at half-power because of this city’s layout.”

“You never brought that up before,” Gourry whispered back. “Why suddenly this city?”

Gourry’s such a dunderhead most of the time, I was shocked at his sudden insistence for information.

“Uh… well, lots of reasons,” I explained quietly “First of all, the city’s laid out like a giant six-sided ward. You know what a hexagram is, don’t you?”

“It’s two triangles put together,” Gourry scoffed. “How dumb do you thing I am?”

It was a preschool way of describing it, but it worked.

I pointed in the direction of the palace. “The Royal Palace happens to be in the center of that giant hexagram. Still with me?”

“Yeah…” I noticed his mouth slowly droop open as he prepared to attempt following.

“In sorcery, a hexagram symbolizes the stable flow of power or balance. A pentagram, on the other hand, destabilizes or unbalances the natural flow of power. A pentagram represents the power of negation. You get me?”

Gourry’s mouth was open so wide that I could’ve shoved my whole boot down his throat.

“On a small scale, without any magical amplification, a pentagram is no more powerful than a basic amulet or a ward—but if you make it massive enough, it has the same power as a humongous magical ward.”

Mouth open. Eyes crossed. Uh, Gourry? Whatever—I still relished blowing his mind. “Saillune City is laid out like a giant hexagram, and we’re looking at the center of it. Because of the interference of the ward’s field, any spell that draws on balance for power, aka White Magic spells, are amplified. On the other hand, any spell drawing its power on imbalance, like any of my attack spells, have their powers weakened. It sounds pretty bad, but lemme tell you, it could be worse. We could be in the middle of a banishment pentagram. That would be a major bummer.”

At that point I stopped blabbering, since I could Gourry had completely checked out.

“Anyway,” I said, “that’s the gist of it. Got it now?”

After blinking a few times, his eyes uncrossed and his mouth closed again. “Nope,” he said absently. “My bad.”

At least the lunk admits he’s a bit dim upstairs.

Another bit of trivia, in case you were interested, is that a White Sorcerer—a trusted adviser to the king who founded Saillune City ages ago—designed the city’s layout.

Enough trivia, you say? Then back to our story.

“Well,” I said, bracing myself, “let’s be off”

With that, I chanted another levitation spell, and the two of us glided off the gate’s ledge and onto the royal courtyard.

The scent of jasmine and lilacs filled the air, and a fresh night breeze nipped at us as we made our way into the complex. Gourry and I took note of where the guards were stationed and avoided the patches of light sent by the courtyard’s lanterns.

Getting through the courtyard was the easy part—the real challenge was entering the Royal Palace. Gourry and I inspected the perimeter of the building, and every entrance was as guarded as we’d suspected. In fact, the whole place was crawling with guards; whole thickets of sentries blanketed every inch of that building.

Not good. Though, I’ll admit, I’m something of a thrill-seeker. Danger gets my blood pumping and the rush can get addictive after a while. Alas.

From what Phil had told us, Clawfell’s room was on the third story. In any other circumstance I could’ve used Levitation to get us up there, but I figured floating in midair makes a fun and easy target for the guards with arrows. Quite frankly, I’ve never fancied the idea of becoming a pincushion.

Gourry and I crouched down behind a small hedge and tried to think.

“Hey, Lina,” Gourry whispered. “Why don’t you distract the guards with a magical bird call or something?”

“Can’t do that,” I answered. “If I summon any spells right now, it’ll blow our cover in a heartbeat.”

“Oh.” Gourry frowned. “But what about those levitation spells you’ve been using? Why hasn’t anyone picked up on those?”

“Levitation is a weak spell—as weak or weaker than a lighting spell,” I explained. “With all these lighting spells at work around us, a levitation spell is easily camouflaged. But a summoning or attack spell? Those require a lot more power. They’re detectable.” I paused for a second.

“Besides,” I added, “I hate summoning spells. I’ve only used ‘em once.”

“How come?”

“Please.” I smirked. “They’re not flashy enough. They undermine my style.”

In the end, we took the simplest approach: Levitation, but in a roundabout way. We flew to the roof of the palace, and from there, we figured, it would be easier to avoid guards and get to Clawfell on the third story. To give you an idea: the central palace was five stories high, so the roof was high enough to be out of the guard’s sight. Getting from the roof and down to the third story was going to require some delicate footwork, but Gourry and I agreed there simply wasn’t another option.

Skylights lined the roof and allowed us to peer into all the rooms below. Every room seemed occupied, and we were fast getting discouraged about finding easy access Into the palace… until we spotted one room that was completely vacant.

That’s convenient, I thought. But it feels a little too easy.

I decided against entering through that room and instead picked a room where a plump old woman lay snoring in her cot. She looked like one of the maids, so I figured the room was a safe enough bet.

From my tunic pocket, I fished out a needle and thin steel plate and went to work on the lock that held the skylight fast.

“You haven’t been holding out on me, have you?” Gourry asked with a chuckle. “You’re not some ace safecracker on top of being a sorceress?” I was a little flattered by the admiring tone in his voice—a girl likes to hear a compliment every now and again, y’know.

“What are you talking about?” I answered. “I’m just your average everyday gal who knows a thing or two about picking locks.”

Gourry smiled. “Liar.”

Just then, I heard a click in the lock and, with a slight jerk, the skylight popped open. I took a deep breath and lowered myself into the room. Thankfully, there was a rug just below us that effectively padded the sound of our feet as we landed on the floor.

The woman didn’t even stir. She kept snoring as peacefully as ever.

I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against the oak, careful to listen for any noises from the corridor. After hearing nothing, I slowly turned the handle and pulled the door open.

The corridor was quiet and ran straight on either side. Dimly lit torches placed in brackets dotted the stone Walls, and a lone guard sat slumped nearby. In fact, he was stationed by the door of the empty room that we’d spotted from the roof. It was a trap as I’d suspected, although it wasn’t a very good one as proven by the snoozing soldier.

Sleeping on duty. Thanks for the help, soldier!

Fortunately for us, there weren’t many other guards around. We didn’t spot a single one as we made our way to the stairway at the end of the corridor and down a flight of stairs. But as we peered around the bend that led to another flight, we saw the shadows of guards against the walls and heard a low murmur coming from the corridor.

Drat.

I cursed more colorfully in my head, but I’d already known we’d have to deal with soldiers sooner or later. Besides, we were on the floor where that string-puller Christopher slept—more guards was no surprise.

With a wave of my hand, I cast a sleeping spell on the sentries. We watched as the guards’ shadows dropped one by one.

A minute or two of super-sneaking later, we found ourselves on Clawfell’s floor. We’d barely encountered any resistance. I know, I know—sounds fantastic, right? But it didn’t feel that way; the ease of our entry stuck to the roof of my mouth like a gob of yak paste. It felt wrong.

The corridor was strangely quiet. We grabbed the hilts of our swords, ready for anything that might pounce from the shadows, and began gingerly making our way down the corridor.

“What do you think?” I asked Gourry hesitantly.

He shook his head. “I don’t like it,” he whispered back. “It feels like a trap.”

“We’ve come too far to turn back now.” I grabbed him by the arm and said quietly, “Listen, when we find Clawfell’s room, let’s not rush into anything. Stay quiet and let me figure out if it’s really him first.”

“Gotcha,” Gourry answered. “I’ll leave the gabbing to you.” I figured that if Christopher was cunning enough, he might’ve moved Clawfell to another room and replaced the aide with an impostor. Gourry and I might’ve played right into Christopher’s greedy little hands. After finding the door that supposedly led to Clawfell’s room, I began picking the lock as carefully as I could. It snapped open with barely a hitch; we slid into the room and shut the door behind us.

Half the bedroom was cloaked in darkness. The other half, bathed in soft moonlight that filtered through the window, held an ornate wooden bed on which we spied a sleeping old man. He certainly fit the description Phil gave us, but we needed a closer look. Besides, looking like Clawfell didn’t mean he really was Clawfell.

I quietly drew my sword. Clutching it in one hand, I tiptoed up to him and firmly clamped my other hand over the man’s mouth.

The geezer’s eyes snapped open. Panic-stricken, he muffled a cry and tried to wriggle free from under my arm. He didn’t have much luck.

That’s my sword-fightin’ arm, kids, and it’s awfully strong.

I tipped the blade of my sword toward his chin. Then, in the most intimidating voice I could muster, I hissed, “Don’t raise your voice.” Once he finally gave up trying to break free, I eased up on him and withdrew my hand from his mouth.

“Clawfell?” I asked him brusquely. He tried to gulp down a lump of terror wedged in his throat and kept his wide eyes fixed on mine.

“Are you assassins… sent from Christopher?!” he asked feebly.

That was a good sign. If the guy had been a fake, he would’ve more likely said, “This is all a misunderstanding!” or something lame like that.

I gave Gourry an approving nod and straightened up, sheathing my sword.

Clawfell propped himself up on an elbow and wiped his sore mouth with one hand. He eyed us suspiciously.

“Didn’t mean to hurt or startle you,” I said. “We just had to make sure you’re the real deal.”

He cocked his head and asked warily, “Who are you people?”

Gourry stepped forward. “We come with a message from Philionel,” he said as self-importantly as he could probably manage.

Clawfell sat up in amazement. “His Excellency?!” he cried. “Shh!” I hissed. “Quiet!”

Clawfell halted and bit his lip contritely.

I sighed.

Please tell me nobody heard that squeal.

“He just wanted to let you and Amelia know that he was safe and sound.”

“I see,” he responded, his voice quavering with joy as he clasped his hands. “Thank the gods His Excellency is safe.”

He sounded like he was about to break down and cry. I felt sorry for the codger—he looked pretty lonely.

Clawfell gazed up at us with eager eyes. “And where is His Excel—? No, wait. It’s best if I do not know where he is.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We’d like you to pass the message along to Amelia. We thought about sneaking into her dormitory quarters, but it’s way too risky.”

“I certainly shall,” he said. He gripped my arm urgently. “As for you, you must return immediately. There’s no reason to stay any longer. And tell his Excellency to be careful and to not worry about us.”

“Gotcha,” I whispered. “We’ll be on our way.”

We backed out of the room, leaving him sitting up in bed, his mouth agape and the hem of his nightgown flapping in the breeze. Gourry and I made sure the coast was clear and slid out into the corridor.

Our escape route was easy enough: just backtrack the way we came. We made it to the stairway and began climbing.

At least, it was easy enough. Until we heard the— KA-BOOM!

The floor and walls shook violently; Gourry and I grabbed hold of each other to keep from falling backward down the stairs.

“What happened?!” one guard shouted.

“What the hell was that noise?!”

“Gary, what’d you do this time?!”

“Don’t panic!” That sounded like a guard leader. “Return to your posts! Stand your ground ‘til we receive word from the officers outside!”

Alarmed screams and commotion totally took over the corridors above and below us. We didn’t want to stick around for a guard to show up in the stairway, so we lurched ahead toward the upper stories. Moments later we managed to scramble onto the topmost floor.

For all the pell-mell going on around her, the old woman kept snoring like a hibernating grizzly

While I have to admit my curiosity was piqued by the sudden rush of activity in the palace, my first priority was getting us out of there. I chanted Levitation and grabbed Gourry’s hand before ascending through the skylight. Once on the roof, I replaced the skylight in its frame. I wasn’t able to lock it up again, but under the circumstances, who the hell was gonna care?

We’ll levitate out of here, I thought, and we’ll be out of this mess in no time. No sooner had I thought that than Gourry nudged me from behind.

“Don’t look now, Lina.” Gourry made a sound in the back of his throat like a tiger’s growl and drew his sword.

Above us, just hanging in midair, was a lone man in flowing robes. I should’ve known my luck couldn’t last.

“Is there something I can do for you?” the floating man said calmly.

With that great big canopy of stars behind his long, flapping mantle, I must say he cut quite a dashing figure. If it weren’t for a nasty scar that ran down his right cheek and the icy expression in his eyes, I might’ve found him pretty hot. There was a sinister glittering in his pupils, and a curl in his thin lips that said, “I’ve been a bad, bad boy.”

The guy knew we were sneaking around inside and had been waiting for us to show up; he set off pandemonium among the guards so he could distract them and corner us alone up on the roof.

Whatever his reasons, something told me that flight— not fight—was the better option this time.

“Ray Wing!” I grabbed onto Gourry as my high-speed flight spell kicked into full gear. I’d have that evil sorcerer with his levitation spell eating my dust in mere seconds. Ray Wing’s wind barrier surrounded us like a force field against Flare Arrows and other nasty bits of offensive magic.

But I was foiled again! Just after we began to speed away, I ran into a shockwave.

WHACK!

It rammed straight into my Wind Barrier with such a jolt that it knocked my brains loose for a second. I managed to snap out of it and regain my midair balance. The force of the impact had sent us hurling down toward the courtyard, and I barely kept us from plowing right into a rush of startled and scurrying guards.

Fortunately for me and Gourry, the Wind Barrier held fast. If it had shattered from the collision with the shockwave, both of us would’ve been pulverized instantly.

A shockwave plus a levitation spell equals a sorcerer who is by no means an amateur.

Meanwhile, the guards running amok in the courtyard had caught on to what was happening far above them. They screamed in terror as we screeched through the pitch black of night like a couple of human meteors. Wide-eyed and dumbfounded, they pointed and gawked as I tried to keep control of our descent.

“What the… what is that?!” cried one of’em.

“Intruders!” another yelled.

Intruders?! Well, duh!

I tried to slow down so our impact With the ground wouldn’t be too traumatic. I didn’t have much luck.

“Ow-ow-ow!” yelled Gourry as he bounced and tumbled across the lawn.

“Dammit!” I hissed as I skidded to a stop palms-first. My side Was bruised, my ankle hurt, and I had the wind knocked out of me. You try getting hit with a shockwave and see how well you do.

We groaned in pain and somehow managed to scramble back to our feet.

“Identify yourselves!” yelled the captain of the guards. I could tell by his shaking knees that we’d scared him silly, but he tried to sound all strong and authoritative.

Gourry, who Was doubled over and trying to catch his breath, waved to the enclosing guards to sheath their swords.

“Don’t worry,” he insisted between pants. “We’re not suspicious at all.”

By habit, he’d unsheathed his own sword and was holding it semi-aloft in his right hand. So his pleas to the others to put away their weapons weren’t exactly convincing.

“I entreat you, Captain Razes.”

It was the sorcerer’s voice. He hung in the air not far above the courtyard, lowering himself with slow, deliberate grace to show how in control of the elements he was. His feet touched the ground noiselessly, and, with that icy smile, he stalked toward us and cooed, “Leave their fate to me.”

Razes sneered at him incredulously “Is that you, Kanzeil?” Displeasure twisted the captain’s face, like he’d just gut on a banana cream cake. “This is a matter for the Royal Guards,” he growled.

Just then, an approaching voice interrupted with, “Let him do as he likes, Razes.”

I looked in the direction of the Royal Palace and saw two figures, half-hidden in the shadows, striding our way.

I didn’t know who they were, but one thing was for sure: the guy leading the way was really good-looking and impeccably groomed. Okay, he might’ve been a tad old for me; I put him at around forty, but he had a tight, slender build. He also had soft dark eyes, unlike the sorcerer’s evil-looking peepers. Someone younger followed just behind him—his son maybe, and from where I was standing, he looked just as tight as daddy.

My, it’s turning out to be a stellar night for man watching. “But sir!” Razes implored of the older, distinguished-looking gentleman. “These two are our prisoners!”

“Razes, you’re the captain of the Royal Guards, are you not?” The handsome man arched an eyebrow. “And, being as such, are you not subordinate to me?”

The captain looked dumbfounded for a moment. He finally lowered his head with an air of resignation.

In the few seconds I’d been standing there, I’d picked up a couple of hunches in regards to the handsome forty-year-old:

#1: He could be a little foul tempered.

#2: He could be Christopher.

“Very good,” Kanzeil said silkily. He extended his right hand toward us. “It would be my high honor to kill them both.”

And, just like that, he began chanting a spell

Slow down! His honor would do what now?

I thought the conversation would go on for a while, like maybe he’d start babbling filler garbage like: “I shall capture these two and learn where Philionel is hiding at last!” and cackle maniacally while I whipped up an escape plan. But the evil-looking sorcerer skipped all the courtesies and went right into killing mode. It’s safe to say Gourry and I were a bit stunned, and the impeccably groomed gentleman looked every bit as shocked as we.

“W-wait, Kanzeil!” Christopher shouted as he reached out. “What are you—?!”

A light emerged from Kanzeil’s right hand and began gathering power rapidly. He’d rattled off his chant awfully fast. “Perish!” he boomed, extending his trembling hand toward us. A flare leaped from his palm, but Kanzeil was too late. In the split second the middle-aged guy had yapped at him, I had released a levitation spell, trying to time it with Kanzeil’s chanting. My plan worked out brilliantly if I do say so myself.

I grabbed hold of Gourry and took off just as Kanzeil’s flare flew through where we’d been. Arcing through the air, I guided us straight for the south gate before Kanzeil had a chance to regroup and unleash another shot,

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite go as smoothly as I’d have liked.

VUUN!

With a howling echo, a red beam slammed into my Wind Barrier, sending us somersaulting through the air. I managed to regain control of my course and keep a hold on Gourry.

“Ow!” Gourry suddenly cried.

I glanced over at him. “What happened?” I shouted.

“My leg.” He grunted and winced. “B-but it’s just a graze. Don’t worry, just go!”

I was worried. He might’ve claimed it was a graze, but I knew he was probably downplaying the wound; the wince on his face gave him away. I ground my teeth together and tried to think.

That magic beam couldn’t have come from Kanzeil. So who else fired that second shot?

The beam had been powerful enough to punch through the Wind Barrier, so whoever had cast it was no lightweight.

“Just hang on,” I consoled Gourry. “We’ll be back in no time.”

With that, I soared across the palace grounds as fast as I could toward Mr. Gray’s house.

* * *

“And that brings us to now,” I concluded. I sighed and relaxed back in my chair. In the parlor back at Mr. Gray’s, I took another sip from my cup of black tea and let Mr. Gray and Phil digest all that I’d divulged.

I glanced uncomfortably at Gourry’s half-bandaged foot. Some of his flesh had been seared by the blast, and Mr. Gray was still tending to it as the sun began to rise over the city.

Phil shook head as he paced. “I’m sorry for putting you through such trouble,” he murmured. “And now, on top of that,” he paused and gestured toward Gourry’s foot, “suffering injury.”

“It was nothin’,” Gourry strained to say lightheartedly from his lying position on a divan. We all knew it was more serious than Gourry led on; he wasn’t fooling anybody. Fortunately, the magic beam had only grazed Gourry’s foot and missed all the bones, and Mr. Gray was a magic powder-and-potion healer of considerable skill, so Gourry wasn’t going to sustain any long-term damage. That still didn’t make me feel much better.

“So that decently attractive older guy…” I cleared my throat and looked away from Gourry. “He really was Christopher, huh?” Phil nodded heavily. “Yes,” he said. “He resembles me greatly, don’t you think.”

Uh… whatever you say, pops.

“And the younger guy with him… that was his son?”

“Indeed,” Phil replied, pouring tea into an empty cup. “The boy you saw was Chris’s son, Alfred.” Phil stirred sugar into his tea and began to sip. “But he’s not the problem. Kanzeil is the problem.”

Kanzeil certainly was the problem. That maniac had nearly burnt us to a crisp.

“Christopher claims that Kanzeil is an old friend. But, of course, that cannot be so; all this trouble began after Chris invited Kanzeil to the Royal Palace.”

Gourry sat up, propped on his elbows. “So you think the assassins are taking their orders straight from Christopher?”

Phil gazed into the gray morning light. “As awful as it sounds, yes. First, he brings a snake into the Royal Palace in the form of Kanzeil—someone who only encourages his own evil ambitions. Then, he dispatches assassins not only at me but at my most trusted allies.” It was clear Phil’s heart was breaking even as he spoke. “How can I forgive him? My own brother!”

A long silence hung over us before I finally asked Phil, “What will you do now?”

My question snapped Phil out of his grim thoughts. “Well,” he pondered, “as I said before, I need to obtain definitive proof from of Christopher’s hand in all this. But sneaking back in so soon after your escape is perhaps not the wisest idea.”

“Definitely not,” I seconded.

Phil gulped the rest of his tea, set his cup down, and began pacing the parlor again with his tubby arms folded.

I’d never seen anyone pace around so much. He was one jittery guy, and watching him was making my head spin.

Phil finally slumped into a chair, clutching his forehead with his hand. “The question is, when to breech the palace.”

THUD!

The door in the hallway had been slammed shut by panicky hands.

“Something terrible has happened!” Maria cried as she staggered into the parlor. She tottered to a chair near the doorway, her face blanched.

“Maria?” Mr. Gray asked, alarmed.

“I just heard… a pronouncement from… the Royal Palace,” she wheezed between pants. “Last night, Lord Clawfell was arrested for conspiracy to assassinate the king.”

“What?!” we all cried at once.

“Lord Clawfell is the prime instigator in the current string of assassinations. Prince Christopher has vowed to punish Clawfell to the fullest extent!” Maria covered her face with her hands and broke into panicked sobs.

“Damn him!” Phil roared. “He’s trying to bait me by threatening to harm my friends!”

“I’m sorry,” Gourry uttered. “This is all ‘cause we were spotted last night.”

“It’s not your fault at all.” Phil walked to the window again, and, slowly, I saw his eyebrows furrow grimly.

“The time has come to act,” he declared.

“Okay,” Gourry said, rising to his feet, “But let us come with you. After all, the enemy arrested Clawfell right after we broke in; we can’t just march out of here with a ‘Good luck with the mess we helped put you in, bye-bye!’”

He was right. For a doofus, Gourry could make a pretty good diplomatic point.

Phil nodded graciously. “I thank you,” he said.

I took a breath and stood from my chair. Okay, I thought, cracking my knuckles. Here we go again.

“Open the gates!” Phil bellowed at the top of his lungs. “It is I, Philionel Di Saillune!!”

For a geezer, he sure had a set of pipes.

A soldier on the lookout saw us and bolted. Not long after, the heavy front gates of the Royal Palace creaked open before us.

Without hesitation, Phil marched in. Gourry and I kept in step behind him.

Phil wore his silken regal robe that day. It didn’t have much gold embroidery on it, but it did have the insignia of the royal crest. Still, a girl’s gotta be honest: the fancy attire didn’t suit Phil at all. It was like putting a dress on a bulldog. You catch get my drift?

Gourry had this flax jerkin on that Mr. Gray had picked out for him. It was lovely… as far as jerkins go. Over that, he wore his breastplate with the sign of the iron serpent on it, and his long sword hung at his hip.

As for me, I wore black trousers and a new robe I’d picked up in one of Saillune’s markets. A black mantle, woven from mythril fibers, clung to my shoulders, flanked by heavily reinforced gold-plated shoulder guards made of ground dragonbone. To top off my look I wore my black bandanna, short sword, and my holiest of possessions—my jewel-encrusted amulet.

Okay, so maybe I went a bit overboard, but it isn’t every day that you get to escort a prince to his palatial digs.

“And who are these two, sire?” asked the soldier who greeted us.

“Allies,” Phil answered tersely. His sole intention was to confront Christopher, and he was determined to proceed.

“His Excellency!” one soldier yelled.

“His Excellency has returned!” announced another.

Phil halted mid-stride, recognizing someone standing at the foot of the temple steps. From our distance, it looked like one of the priestesses. She suddenly let loose with a long, exulted cry.

“Daaaddyyy! You’re home!”

The priestess lifted the hem of her robe and ran daintily toward Phil’s outstretched arms. Halfway there, she less-daintily tripped.

Okay, I’ll tell you straight: she was cute. She wasn’t much older than me and had raven shoulder-length hair. She had big, beautiful eyes and a fair complexion. The only flaw I could make out (at least, on first impression—but give me time) was that her priestess’ robe was a couple of sizes too big for her. Oddly enough, the way it draped and flowed all over made her look that much cuter.

To her benefit, she didn’t look a mite like her father. “Amelia!” Phil cried, his face beaming. “How’ve you been?”

“Sheesh! I’m fine, Father,” Amelia gushed. “And I knew you were too!”

Phil hugged her. “Now,” he asked dotingly, “are you telling me you knew all along I was safe?”

“I sure am,” she answered. “Know why? ‘Cause justice always wins in the end.”

Uh, girl, we gotta talk. I got news for ya.

She turned her gaze to Gourry and me.

“And who’re these two?” she asked.

“Ah!” Phil spun around to face us. “This is Miss Lina and Mr. Gourry, my allies.”

Phil kept an arm gently around Amelia’s shoulders. “Here she is,” he declared with pride. “My second daughter.”

“Second?” I blurted without thinking.

“Yes, my elder daughter is Gracia. She’s off right now on one of her training journeys. She hasn’t returned yet.”

“Big Sis is probably just lost like usual,” Amelia said with a big smile.

Bingo.

Phil tucked a strand of hair behind Amelia’s ear and stroked her face. “If I do say so myself,” he remarked, “she’s quite a beauty. Just like her father.”

Gourry and I couldn’t help but exchange a pained glance.

“Nice to meet you!” Amelia said perkily. She shot a hand up in greeting and smiled so widely it made the muscles around my mouth sore. I wondered if that sort of chipperness was the result of medication.

“Y-Yeah,” said Gourry. “You too.”

Amelia shuffled in her robes; her smile still beaming from her face. Something suddenly caught her eye.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Looks like Uncle’s here to welcome you too.” Three figures, still shadowy, emerged from the entrance to the temple. They descended the wide steps and approached us.

True to cryptic form, it was the trio who’d greeted us so memorably the night before: the middle-aged feller we now knew to be Christopher, his son Alfred, and Kanzeil the Sorcerer.

“Brother,” Christopher oozed, his arms outstretched. “You’re safe?”

A bitter look hardened over Phil’s face. “Of course I am.” An awkward moment passed, in which Christopher, realizing that Phil didn’t want a hug from him, grudgingly lowered his arms. “Where of all places have you been?” Christopher eventually asked. “I was worried sick about you.” Christopher’s tone was suspicious to say the least. He surely sensed that Phil was on to him, but he still kept right on, probably to see how far he could go before Phil told him to drop the act.

Of course, Christopher spotted us, and asked with the same mock-ignorance, “And the two you’ve brought with you?”

No matter how long we kept up these niceties, there was no getting around it: here we were, the two infiltrators from last night, now reentering the palace in the company of the rightful heir. Put the pieces together, and you can see what a dicey situation Gourry and I had gotten ourselves into.

“Oh, you mean these guys?” Amelia jumped in. She didn’t smile this time. “They’re old friends of Father’s.” Old friends? Oh, right—the same excuse Christopher had made with Kanzeil. The battle lines were getting drawn, all right.

A flat, stammered, “I see…” was all Christopher could come up with as a response.

“This is Miss Lina Inverse,” Phil explained calmly, “and that is Mr. Gourry Gabriev.”

Kanzeil furrowed his brows intently. “You are Lina Inverse?”

My reputation precedes me, I guess. By the stunned look on his face, I assumed Kanzeil had only heard the notorious stuff.

That’s right. I’m dangerous, so step off!

“Silence, Kanzeil,” Christopher snapped.

“Forgive me.” Kanzeil slinked back a few steps, his head lowered.

It was some act those guys were putting on. If Kanzeil had been in the mood, he could’ve vaporized Christopher with a snap of his fingers. And, for his part, Christopher only wanted the facial-scarred Kanzeil around to accommodate his power bid. Not the cuddliest of friendships, I gathered.

“Let me, Father,” Amelia suddenly said. She turned toward us, made a grand sweep of an arm, and declared, “This is Christopher, my beloved uncle!”

Christopher looked pained. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he was in dire need of a laxative.

“And this is Alfred,” Amelia continued cheerfully. “And that’s my uncle’s old friend, Kanzeil. Things in the Royal Palace started getting messy right after he was invited in, but I’m sure that was just an unfortunate coincidence!”

I sincerely doubted Amelia was trying to be sarcastic, but she made her remarks loud enough for the gathered soldiers to get an earful. I sensed they were already suspicious about Christopher, since they pointedly sneered at him once Amelia was done.

“It’s nice to see you again,” I said confidently. “Oh, did I say again? Because I met for the first time ever, sorry.”

I heard Gourry choke back a giggle. I could see Christopher’s agitation grow, but he still kept up his tack of appearing gracious and relieved to see his brother again.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re safe,” he murmured to Phil. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll take our leave.”

He spun around on his heels and began to skulk away. Phil’s cry stopped him.

“Wait, Chris!”

Christopher cringed and slowly turned around with the most uptight expression on his face.

Someone, please, get this man some bran!

“Yes, my dear Brother?” he hissed.

“Release Clawfell,” Phil demanded. “Now!”

Christopher shook his head sternly. “I can’t do that,” he said, a cruel smile spreading over his lips. “We have information that Clawfell convened secretly with intruders last night. You’ll thank me for arresting him, Brother, for I believe he’s centrally involved in the conspiracy to assassinate you.”

“Stop your blathering,” Phil snarled as he pointed at Gourry and me. “These were the messengers who met him, and they are my friends!”

“Th—!” The words caught in Christopher’s throat, and the scowl on his face stiffened. Christopher, I’m sure, thought he could dance around the issues and be gone, but Phil was really holding his feet in the fire. It surprised me as much as -it did Christopher.

“Messengers?” Christopher asked. “For what purpose?”

“My messengers contacted Clawfell in secret last night.” Phil put his hands on his hips. “They informed me that, on their way back, they were intercepted by a sorcerer and barely escaped a fireball. Now I ask you this: Don’t you think the sorcerer and those he is in league with are more likely to be the conspirators against me?”

Christopher’s mouth fell open.

“Clawfell is not to blame.” Phil, his hands balled into fists, approached Christopher until he was inches away from his nose. “Release him… now!”

“B-But…” Christopher blubbered.

“But what?!”

“Is it true… what you say?”

A sly smile spread across Phil’s squat face. “Surely you’re not implying that I’m covering for Clawfell? Why would I do that? Unless you think that I might be the one the pulling the strings, orchestrating a series of plots to assassinate myself?” Phil threw Christopher’s warped logic right back at him. “Is that what you really think, Brother?”

Christopher was left speechless. He blinked a couple of times and finally blurted; “Of course not!” He was red-faced and shaken, and Gourry and I were loving it.

“Good. Then we agree—release Clawfell,” Phil ordered. “I must be off.”

“Let me help, Father,” Amelia chirped giddily. “Let me help!”

Phil turned to Gourry and me.

“I must attend to some business here at the palace,” he said. “It’s unavoidable, I’m afraid. Would someone here be good enough to show my friends around the premises while I’m engaged?”

That got me a little worried. Was it a good idea for Phil to go off alone somewhere, without the only two people he could trust? But then I figured it was broad daylight: who in their right mind would attack Phil at that hour, especially with his guards and courtiers everywhere? Besides, from what I’d just seen, Christopher was a wuss—all bark and no bite.

While I was mulling that over, Kanzeil stepped forward. “If it please thee, sire,” he said smoothly, “I would be happy to show our guests around.”

After trying to barbeque us the night before?! I don’t think so. But, like Amelia and Phil, I stuck with our game plan. “Thanks ever so much,” I said, smiling as sweetly as I could. “So pleased to make your acquaintance.”

We climbed an ornate staircase made of polished white augite and passed through a massive archway Magnificent stained glass mosaics lined the walls, depicting the various monarchs who had ruled Saillune City through the centuries.

Not to sound artsy-fartsy here, but it was some of the most amazing artwork I’d ever seen. It wasn’t gaudy, but it wasn’t plain; the pictures were a perfect balance of majesty and modesty. A rich crimson carpet stretched toward the grand altar.

But I’m gonna stop now, because I sound like a fop.

“This is the temple dedicated to Sylpheed, the Red Dragon,” Kanzeil explained, his voice echoing through the room. “Here is where all the coronations and royal weddings are held.” His tone seemed oddly disinterested. “The structures to the left and right of us are the dormitories. Priestesses reside in the left, and priests in the right… and I think that’s all that needs to be said about that.

“Guests are not allowed to enter the dormitories,” he explained in a hushed tone, “so we shall cross to the other side of the temple through here and on to the central palace.”

Kanzeil strode quickly through the temple, barely bothering to point out anything. I tried to take in the fabulous sculptures and tapestries that hung high above the arched windows, while Gourry just rushed through with his mouth open, looking upward.

Kanzeil, more than anything, just seemed bored and distracted. I already expected him to be rubbing in remarks about how powerful he was and how he could destroy both of us in a heartbeat if he wanted to. You know, the standard threats you expect to hear from an evil jerk.

I was willing to bide our time and see what he had up those ultra-wide sleeves of his. We walked through a glass-roofed passageway that led into the palace, and looking up through transparent panels, I caught a glimpse of the clear, blue sky.

If it hadn’t been for the fairly tense (not to mention irritating) situation that I found myself in, I’d have slowed down to really enjoy the morning. Maybe I’d have taken a leisurely stroll through the palace gardens and sat by the fountains. It made me realize how much I needed a nap. After a few minutes of daydreaming, I suddenly noticed Kanzeil hotfooting through and opening some serious distance between us. Gourry and I picked up our pace to catch up… but just then, I felt the weirdest sensation.

No matter how fast we walked, we couldn’t catch up with Kanzeil. As I wondered how he could be getting farther and farther away from us, he suddenly vanished. I froze, and whipped around to Gourry.

He had vanished with Kanzeil.

Damn it all to hell.

I’d fallen for that asshole sorcerer’s spell.