The King's Might: A Legend of Averdan

Part Three, Chapter Two

TWO

In Which Alair Once Again Proves His Worth

"So you like the country?"

"Of course I do. It's beautiful. More green here than I've ever seen in my life. More water."

"And the Census is continuing as planned."

"Exactly as planned. Thank you again for starting it while I recovered. Otherwise we'd be days behind."

"And you feel better."

"Much better. Better, I think, than I've ever felt."

"Then what's the problem?"

Jalith sighed. "That's just it, Alair. I don't know what the problem is. I feel fantastic, I spend hours at a time wandering in this beautiful country. I'm apparently a hero to the people in Oot. My day is filled from sunup to sundown with useful work and beautiful free time."

"Is it Karloi?"

"No...and yes. Something about her."

"Like the Baroness' type of something?"

"Like the what, now?"

"The Baroness." Alair eyed his friend solicitously. "No, nevermind. If you don't want to talk about it we don't have to. We'll figure whatever it is out eventually. In the meantime... seriously, Karloi? She seems all right to me. A little strange, but she's had a lot on her plate. Right after the rains is a busy season here--all the wheat is starting to sprout."

"It's probably nothing."

Alair just raised his eyebrows and leaned back.

The two princes were seated on the side of a stream under a bower of birch trees laden with honeysuckle, their boots shucked off and their leggings rolled up past their knees. The cool water--the brightest and coldest they had seen in their lives--rolled over their desert-born feet. The air was rich with moisture, almost unbelievably so. Both desert boys, they felt that every breath they took was bursting with water. They were nearly drunk with it.

There was a river through Hamrat--this same river, as it happened--but by the time it reached the city it was deep underground, reachable only through twenty feet of sand and gravel. Both of them, in spite of their important princely duties, retired here in the evening just to watch the intoxicating cascade of water over rocks.

Nearly asleep, sunning himself on his rock, Alair leafed lazily through the Righte and Usefull Guide.

"The Lande of Rekhanti," he read, "is the Fertile Hearte of the Souchlad. Enough Croppes are Growne Here to feede the Entiretye of the Landes. It is Worthy of Visitation for those who Seeke Greate Peace, and the Tombe of Sidhenna provides--"

"Tomb of Sidhenna," Jalith said, frowning. "I was there, with Karloi."

"Of course you were. It's where she cured you. You were screaming and hurting yourself, biting your own hands, before she brought you down there."

"I know," he was still frowning. "But there's something else."

Alair shrugged and settled into his seat, guidebook dipping into his lap. "Don't worry about it," he muttered. "It's sunny, and for the first time in my life I am simultaneously enjoying the sun and not frying. Allking slicing a hamsteak,(3) how did this wonderful little nugget of a country ever come into being?"