The Kingdom of Noitcif

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Letters from a Spy

  Tarquin packed his bags the following afternoon. Mr. La Riviere was honored to help the kingdom and even insisted that the messenger take his pair of night vision glasses in addition to the amulet.

  "Your plan is a good one, Tarquin, but I have heard it is dark in Ytailer – in more ways that one, I am afraid. Inform me, how things are going for you, if you can, so I know you are all right," Mr. La Riviere requested as he escorted the messenger out of his shop.

  After a brief send-off meeting with Espen, Fleet, Royce, Wesley, and Lee Rose to go over some details of Tarquin's infiltration, he at last was ready to go – or, so he thought.

  "Stop time and deliver us messages about how you are doing periodically," Fleet insisted.

  "You can leave them on my bedroom desk," Espen offered. "I'll get the word out to everyone concerned."

  "Oh, and be sure to get a warning to us as soon as you suspect they are about to attack – if they decide to," Royce added.

  "And... there is something else you should be aware of, Tarquin," Lee Rose chimed in.

  Tarquin massaged his temples with a gloved hand. "What else?"

  "Just be careful," Lee Rose told him, leaning across the table and patting him upon his arm. "Promise?"

  Tarquin glanced around at all of them, and Espen, too, nodded from across the table. "Promise."

  As everyone departed and Espen walked Tarquin to the door of the meeting hall, the messenger had one more thing to say.

  "You know what the hardest part of this will be, my king?"

  Espen shook his head.

  "Pretending to hate my beloved kingdom."

  Tarquin left for Ytilaer that evening. He was wished luck by the entire citizenry of the main island as they watched him mount Verbum and soar into the sky, accompanied by the shouts and good wishes of his people. After a moment, he abruptly vanished from sight, and Espen knew he had stopped time so he could get to Ytilaer and change his appearance before the clock started again.

  "Well, he's off," the young king sighed, resting his arms on the balcony of the stone tower.

  Rosalind, who had joined him for the send-off, gave a gentle nod. "He's off."

  "How did your meeting with him go this morning?" Espen inquired.

  "Good! I loaded him up with tips and information," she finished with a mischievous expression. "He's set!"

  The first letter from Tarquin came the following evening. Espen couldn't help but smile as he opened it, for the messenger's tidy, flourishing hand suggested nothing of the predicament he was currently in. The young king supposed it logically followed that in order to become a messenger, one must also be good at writing messages.

  To King Estevan,

  Greetings, good king!

  Everything is going fine so far. Your uncle is indeed an interesting man. He greeted us this morning murmuring about salted cashews and a girl named 'Shirly' being permanently deactivated.

  Rosalind's extensive information on her adopted brothers have allowed me to slip into the role of Griffith Whitewood quite easily. Keeping the real Griffith hidden was the hard part, so I decided to house him at the Rorroh jail, where he will be fed and guarded over the course of this assignment.