The Inquisitor Ch. 17

"Tell me, my child... do you know the year of your birth? I mean to say, how many seasons have you passed. Does the hour of your birth not draw near."

The princess was stunned. "Why yes, my lord! How could you... I have seen the passing of twenty and four winters already, and I shall turn another year down on the night of the High Moon."

The old man was rocked by a series of cackling laughter, and he rocked faster and faster.

"I knew it! Yes, yes, I knew it to be true! The daughter of a woodland chief, born at the high moon...Yes! I knew it to be true!" His cackles grew loud, so much that the princess feared they would be overhead.

At last, his rocking slowed, and his terrible laughter subsided, as he once again settled down. At length, he leaned forward, his gaze intent.

"Hearken to me, girl." He spoke. "Our time together grows short, and there is much to tell you. I know you have many questions, and I fear I have but few answers. You shall discover your own truths in time."

" I shall speak to you of prophecy and terrible plots. But first... Know you this... the tale your prince Tar'Quinne tells of your king fallen ill is a falsehood! An outright lie! Your king lies imprisoned! And we, his kinsmen, have come to free him."

"But alas, all the magick I possess is not enough to unseat your Queen. She has grown too powerful, and her wrath is too mighty to withstand. None of our company could scarce get near enough to her to take her down. Nor are any here strong enough to withstand her spells of charm.

"But hearken to me... I lay before you a plot. A fiendish plan to tear her from her throne!"

The darkness outside grew fainter as he the old man spoke in hushed tones with the princess. Hours passed as he laid out his plan to her, and as the sun began to brighten the sky in the east, the princess crept back to her maid's slumbering side, a bright object clutched within her palm.