A Fool's Tale

Chapter 19 - The Suspicious Meeting

"Pardon me, my peasant friends, but Jangles has royal business to tend to." I puffed out my chest then bowed low and capered away from the guests, following Serpen as he exited the dining room. A few people assembled in the front foyer blocked my passage, demanding to be entertained. I joked and danced madly for a few seconds before finally getting a chance to slip outside.

Bursting from the main doors, my bells rang out in the cold fall evening. I scanned the courtyard, but saw no sign of the advisor or the sorcerer. Malacor could have disappeared into any of the buildings, but Serpen wasn't far ahead of me, and there was no sight of him in the courtyard. He had to be heading toward the rear of the king's hall.

I stepped clear of the threshold, hurried along the edge of the hall and peered around the left corner. Luck was with me. I caught sight of Serpen's white cloak just as he turned the far corner at the back of the hall.

As tempting as it was to race after him, my bells would surely alert Serpen to my presence. I removed my hat and shoes and clutched them tight against my chest in order to muffle the sound of the bells, before loping along the edge of the building. Upon reaching the far end, I peeked around the corner. Serpen Rose was there...and so was Malacor. The warlock appeared to be lecturing Serpen. I listened intently. Snatches of their conversation drifted to me.

"...plans are in place...the king...die...back-up...poison...fails...assassin... understood."

Serpen inclined his head. "...my reward...princess...throne, as discussed."

Malacor stared coldly at the advisor then spoke a single word. "Agreed." They clasped hands and turned in my direction.

I jerked my head back then fled, holding my bells as tight as possible.

What had I just heard? It sounded like threats against King Roland and maybe Talia. I needed to tell someone, but I was nothing but a newly employed fool. No one would believe me...except maybe Talia. How could I get her alone at a crowded feast while dressed as Jangles? I grimaced. It was impossible.

After entering the foyer, I pulled on my cap and shoes, then ran into the hall. Gilles was at the entrance and gave me a sharp look. I shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, nature called." I hurried past him and resumed my capering and jokes, although I fear that much of my artistry had evaporated. My thoughts were distracted, and I spent far too much time focused on the head table, trying to locate threats to King Roland or Talia. Nothing appeared out of place to my untrained eye, though that didn't make me feel any better.

Just before the main course, Gilles indicated for us to return to the side dining room. I hesitated, worried that I'd missed something, but Gilles gave me such a hard stare that I knew he would eject me from the hall if I didn't obey immediately.

Walking backwards toward the side room, I gave one last glance across the items and guests at the head table. Although I'd been keeping an eye on Malacor all night, I'd been careful to avoid his gaze, but as I scanned the table, he caught my eyes in his. A piercing needle of pain shot into my mind. It felt like someone was rummaging through my thoughts; shuffling them like a deck of cards. My knees buckled. I tried to push the presence away with my mind, but the torment increased. I staggered, and a trickle of blood dripped from my nose to the floor.

Pickles grabbed me around the shoulders before I fell then guided me to our break room.

The pain immediately lessened.

"What happened out there?" she asked, shutting the door behind us.

"I don't know. That sorcerer, Malacor. His eyes do something to my head." I rubbed my temples. "It's hard to explain."

"I understand." Kyla looked angry, although I don't know who she was mad at. "I've seen it before."

"You have? Do you know Malacor?" I wondered whether I should tell her about the conversation I'd overheard.

"It's nothing for you to be concerned with," she responded curtly, and then fell quiet and introspective. Her brooding look returned, dropping over her face like a sheet.

I realized then that I couldn't tell Kyla. She was just too erratic, and I don't think she could help anyways. She was nothing but a fool, just like me.

The conversation I'd overheard seemed to indicate plans were in place, but it sounded more like a future plan than something occurring tonight. I could only hope this was the case.

I resumed my juggling practice, but was worse than ever. I soon gave up and adopted a brooding expression, much like Kyla. Perhaps that was a normal state for jesters when they weren't performing. I allowed myself a grim smile at the thought.

After what felt like an eternity, someone knocked on the door. "Final performance, let's go."

We burst into the hall and began tumbling around. The guests were enjoying pastries from multi-tiered silver plates and great platters of chocolate covered strawberries. Many of their faces were flushed with drink. I was relieved to see that nothing seemed amiss. As Pickles had predicted, they were quick to laugh after so many drinks and even I had little trouble entertaining them.

The festivities were winding down when Malacor stood. "Good evening, gentle folk." His stern voice and intimidating presence halted the conversations around the hall.

Pickles and I stopped our antics.

"I wanted to say thank you to our hosts for the wonderful feast." Malacor bowed to King Roland and Queen Vivien "...and to show my gratitude, I would like to present you with a taste of magic."

He gestured and the hall darkened. A pinpoint of light emerged from his fingertips. The light slowly grew until coalescing into a grand tableau hanging high above the feast hall.

I stared in wonder. How was this possible?

The enormous image displayed a marvelous tournament. There were soldiers, knights, squires, and processions of musicians blowing on long trumpets. Two jousting knights crashed together when suddenly a cry of alarm emerged from the onlookers. A red dragon with smoke pouring from its nostrils flew over the tournament grounds. It swooped low and opened its mouth, breathing gouts of fire upon the participants. It seemed so real that many in the audience, including myself, ducked, as the dragon sailed around the chamber.

The soldiers and knights tried to fight the creature, but it was hopeless. Their weapons merely bounced off the huge lizard's scales. It retaliated, roasting them alive in their armor. The dragon seemed to have claimed victory when a number of robed figures arrived at the edge of the tableau. They gathered in a circle and held hands while chanting. A great circle of ice surrounded the dragon. It roared and tried to break free, but the mass of ice continued to grow until it froze the great lizard solid. The hooded figures then turned and walked into the distance.

The image flickered and faded away. There was a smattering of applause from the audience. Some of it was loud and enthusiastic, appreciating the craft, whereas others lightly tapped their hands, pondering the meaning behind Malacor's spell. Even to my inexperienced eyes, it was clear that the hooded figures were mages, and they had saved the helpless people from the marauding dragon. Something the knights and soldiers had been incapable of.

King Roland rose, his expression flat, as he politely applauded. "Thank you, Lord Malacor for that clever illusion. It was truly an inspiration of creativity."

Malacor's eyes flashed angrily at the trivialization of his magic, but then he slumped back in his chair, seemingly exhausted, and in some discomfort.

"And thank you everyone else for attending. It was a lovely evening. I hope you all manage to stagger back to your homes intact." Then King Roland walked out, arm in arm with Queen Vivien, putting an end to the night.

I'd managed to survive my first performance. I should have felt relieved or happy, but I was neither. All I could think about was the possible danger to Talia and King Roland.