Steven George & the Terror
27
Prince
IN THE MORNING, Steven and Prince Val continued to the City and Castle of Rich Reach. The Prince carried on a lively conversation as they walked—sometimes with Steven. As they traveled, the Prince continued to pull down boundary markers and to collect their flags. Sometimes, the talk was of the banished Terror, and at others about the tasks of governing such a large principality. At times, it seemed the prince was giving instructions to unseen minions for preparing a welcome and banquet for Steven. Steven constantly caught himself looking for whoever it was the Prince was talking to, but there was never anyone present.
“Now, about the Terror,” said the Prince as they walked. “You say it was really just the thief called Ibin Ariaga who was terrorizing people with stories and secretly going out and moving the boundary markers?”
“Yes,” said Steven. “The villagers of Alinata are holding him awaiting your pleasure.”
“That will never do,” said the prince.
“Do you want me to go back and fetch him?” Steven asked.
“Great heavens, no!” exclaimed the prince. “I’ll send guards to arrest him properly. The story of the thief terrorizing the entire kingdom is what will not do. We must have a Terror that you have conquered. Let me see. A monster that you have slain, perhaps? No, no, he would have to bring back the head or ears or some proof if he had slain a monster.” Steven once again realized that he was now subject of a conversation that did not include him, so remained silent while the prince continued.
“A being of the spirit world, then? Or a witch that dissolved in a puddle of water? Dust! That is it! A corpse that turned to dust when the dragonslayer slew it! Again. There are so many possible terrors. What do you think?” asked the Prince.
Steven waited for the Prince to continue until he realized that the Prince had actually turned to him for an opinion. Clearing his throat, Steven meekly asked, “Why not the truth?”
“Storyteller,” the Prince began, “I do not want my entire kingdom humiliated by believing that the Terror was no more than a prankster. You would be no hero and the people would think they were idiots. People who do not believe in themselves cannot be productive and profitable. The entire economy would collapse. Now if we were to collect enough dust for it to be plausible that it was a corpse, we could dole it out gradually to the souvenir vendors who could sell it at a handsome price. Whenever people begin to doubt themselves, we could put a little more Terror Dust on the market and there would be a revival. We must make people believe there was a real, monstrous Terror; they were right to be afraid; and we have a true hero in our midst who has saved us from said Terror. Then the people will return to their homes in confidence to rebuild. They will find no encroaching boundary markers. They will know that the kingdom is safe as far as the eye can see, and they will be happy.”
“But that would be a lie,” said Steven sadly.
“No,” said the Prince. “It would be a story.”
The two walked on in silence for a distance—a remarkable feat for the Prince. Soon they were in sight of the castle parapets and the Prince stopped to address Steven directly before they entered.
“The answer is in the book,” said the prince with confidence. “But since the answer must finally come from you, it is you who must use the book. I will give you the key, and you will tell me the answer the book gives you.”
“You mean there really are a book and a key?” Steven asked in amazement.
“As surely as there is a sheepskin vest on your back,” answered the Prince. “Here is the key. You will have uninterrupted time in the library before the feast tonight, and you will find the answer and bring it to us.” With that, the Prince removed a cord from around his neck with a key at the end. “Get that back to me as soon as possible,” the Prince directed. “I feel foolish without it.”
The entry into Rich Reach was heroic. People lined the streets to greet their Prince and Steven, who was more than a little embarrassed. It did almost appear that the Prince had communicated with the castle staff before their arrival, since all arrangements had been made for the great feast later that night. Steven was taken to a chamber to freshen up, and then led to the library where “the book” was kept.
“Does the Prince come here often?” asked Steven of his librarian guide.
“Oh yes, sir,” answered the librarian. “It seems he is always in here. That’s why no one else ever uses the library.”
“I beg your pardon? Doesn’t the Prince let others use the library?” asked Steven.
“Oh, he does not object,” said the librarian. “But with the Prince in here, it is already crowded.” Steven looked around the large chamber, but could imagine how just the Prince could seem like a crowd. He was led to the book and the librarian retired.
The lock on the book was ancient and rusty. It hadn’t been opened in many years and the key did not turn on the first try. Steven reached in his pocket and found the oilskin that had wrapped his duck sandwich. It was smeared in duck fat, and he applied some of this to the lock and to the key. After a time of working the key back and forth, the lock popped open and Steven pried the cover back from the first page of the ancient book.
It was blank.
Steven flipped through page after page of the great book, but all were blank. Steven smiled and then chuckled. He finally laughed out loud. He knew the story he would tell at the banquet. He relocked the book and went to the great chamber where the Prince was waiting with many actual people of the court in attendance. Steven returned the key, and after they had eaten their meal, he rose to tell his story.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at nathan@nathaneverett.com.
