A gnome-like figure scuttled across the room and hopped up on a stool behind a worn, dirty counter as Jep entered. Two squinting eyes watched suspiciously as he crossed from the door, offering a pleasant smile and greeting.

"What business have you with the council?" The voice was raspy and filled with belligerence.

"I seek anyone who might know the whereabouts of a maid named, Gwendolise Bogendancer.

A pair of matted eyebrows shot up and the squint expanded to a wide-eyed stare. "Bogendancer! Do you seek a relative of the Queen of Graf?" The stool rocked precariously as the misshapen little man wriggled about.

"Relative in name only, friend. I don't believe they have seen one another since childhood. Do you know her?"

"And why, pray tell, should I give you any information, you, a total stranger." The man scolded.

"I am Jep... Waterford, from a small village like your own, and I seek this maiden for personal reasons. She has information about my family that I yearn to know." He turned an innocent face to his inquisitor, the lie rolling easily off his tongue.

"And just what might that info—"

"LYMAN! Get your filthy dwarf body off my stool and away from my counter!" The harsh, commanding bark startled both men; Jep jerking around defensively and the dwarf called Lyman, tumbling to the floor in a tangle of stool legs and papers.

"Every time I go out I return to find you trying to impersonate my authority!" The newcomer swept across the room and around the counter, his well-worn coat flapping against a pair of dull black boots. "I am the person in charge here." His voice remained strong but controlled, "Any business you have here you have with me, not this sniveling excuse for an assistant." He directed a kick toward his scrambling aide.

"My apologies sir, I had no way—"

"A pox on your apologies." The man righted the stool, gathered the spilled papers and seated himself with authority. "What is your business?"

"I seek a maiden called Gwendolise Bogendancer. Word came by me that she was once in this village."

The man's eyes narrowed and he pulled at his moustache pensively. "Why would you be seeking this person?"

"As I already told your assistant," Jep watched the two men snarl at one another, "she has information important to me. "'Tis a simple question sir, do you know her whereabouts?"

The man began a protest, but the blare of a solitary horn cut him off. Lyman scurried to the door and disappeared outside, returning a moment later with fear and concern molding his features. "Soldiers come. Our lookout says they wear the emblem of Count Bragen de Consiflore!"

"They seek me, sir." Jep blurted, "Please, if you have information, tell me now and I will go."

The man considered Jep for a moment, signaling to his aide to close the door. "We have no love here for Consiflore. He is a beast. If they find you here we will all suffer." The man grasped Jep's arm and bore into him with cold eyes. "If you are lying and you bring trouble to this village, young friend, you will be very sorry.

There is a small shack on the outskirts to the west; it belongs to an old woman named Prize. She once had a young maiden staying with her; perhaps it was this Gwendolise Bogendancer. Quickly, go out the back and stay close to the buildings."

Jep thanked both the men and ran to the back of the council room, pushing out the door into a greasy, garbage-strewn alley. Between the broken slats of a tall wooden fence, he could see the hill above Dyst and the small band of riders guiding their horses down the steep slope. Following the councilman's advice, he stuck close to the dingy shacks and made his way carefully toward the western outskirts of the town.

*****

William stood uncomfortably before the Queen listening to her command. He was to ensure that the king remained in his chamber for the evening and he wasn't to be informed of anything that occurred no matter what. William felt a pain in his chest; he was extremely loyal to the kindly king and deceiving him was not a task he took lightly.

"Is there something that might endanger his Majesty?"

Hella rose from her lounge and strode toward the young man, her fan beating the air with vicious strokes. She stopped directly in front of William and grasped him by the jaw. "If we were to give permission to be questioned, it would certainly not be to a lowly household valet." She twisted her hand, wrenching his head to one side and forcing a finger into his mouth, "And if it happens again, we shall have to consider removing the means."

William pulled back, shaken; a bitter taste lingered on his tongue but he dared not react. "My most humble apology, your Majesty," he muttered.

"You have no idea what your most humble apology would need to be. Now leave, and mind well our request regarding the king." She flicked her fan toward the door and spun away, walking back to her lounge.

William hurried back to the king's chamber, clambering up the stone staircase and scuffing his knuckles on the rough wall as he ran. King Graf had to be told that the Queen was up to no good, yet, her warning was not to be ignored. What of Mary should something happen to him? She would be at the mercy of the Queen and the palace guards; the thought made him shudder. He skidded to a halt outside the chamber entrance, straightening his tunic and getting his breath under control.

"I take it you have just returned from an audience with my wife, William." King Graf smiled kindly as his valet entered the large room.

"Uh... yes Sire. She uh, her Majesty uhm..."

"She's told you to do something that has disturbed you, am I right?" The king beckoned him closer. "I can see it in your eyes."

Abandoning his caution, William went on one knee before the king and told him of the Queen's command. Sadness came over Hugh's face; the machinations of his wife were growing more dangerous each day yet he knew that within the palace walls, his title held little sway.

"I was afraid of this day," Hugh said.

"Sire?"

"I must tell you a story William, a story you must repeat to no one, and when I am through you must make a grave decision."

William looked with puzzlement upon his king, a sense of foreboding nudging his heart.

*****

Tarra stood red-eyed and defeated before the Queen. She had watched in horror as Consiflore's men beat and tortured her husband for information about the contents of the box and their missing son. Harkham's dying words were his professed love for Tarra— he had told them nothing. Now, faced with her interrogation by the Queen, Tarra silently vowed that she would uphold her husband's sacrifice, revealing nothing more.

Hella sneered, watching the trembling woman dismiss a tear from her cheek. "It would have been much easier to just tell my men what they wanted to know." She paused, waiting for a reaction. "Are you listening woman? Your Queen speaks!"

"You are no Queen of mine," Tarra said, boldly, straightening her shoulders.

Hella let out a hiss and with eyes smoldering angrily, she raked her long nails noisily along the arm of her lounge. "Is that so. Well perhaps a little encouragement is required for you to realize the need for respect. A breath of the fresh air along the castle parapet might clear your sorely mistaken attitude." She signaled the guards to take Tarra outside.

A poor assembly of stars and a weak moon afforded little illumination on the narrow walkway of the castle parapet. Far below, in the main courtyard, the glow of fires cast dancing shadows of the people preparing for the entertainment in the marketplace. Bursts of laughter and the drone of many conversations drifted up to the group standing silently before a slim opening in the wall.

"To show we are benevolent, we will ask once again; where is your son and what is in the box he took away?" Hella stood to one side with her robe held tightly about her.

"You may ask 'till eternity, I will reveal nothing to a murdering coward such as you." Tara's words tumbled out in tremulous defiance. She cast her eyes down over the wall, fearing the worst.

Hella seethed in silence. Only the echo of her foot tapping on the stones indicated her rage. "Your husband paid dearly for his foolishness, don't make the same error. Tell me now what I want to know!" Raising her chin and clenching her fists at her sides, Tarra slowly shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Blast you!" Hella screamed, her eyes blazing with frustration, "Take your stubborn mind and join your husband then, I'll find your son myself, and when I do, I'll be glad to tell him how his parents wasted their stupid lives! Throw her over!"

The two guards exchanged shocked looks, hesitating over the harsh command. Tarra braced herself and, crying freely, prayed aloud for her son. Hella shrieked again, swatting the nearest guard across the cheek.

"Do as I command!"

"B-but M'lady... it's mur—"

"I SAID THROW HER OVER, or by the gods I'll do it myself and both of you as well!"

******

William sat in the corner of the stall with his head in his hands and Mary's arm about his shoulders, listening to her soothing voice. "Surely the king was just telling you what might possibly happen, the worst."

"I don't know what to think, Mary. He bade me tell no one and yet... he knew and did nothing all these years."

"Maybe there was nothing to do."

William looked up her. "Nothing to do! Mary, she's been hurting and harassing people for years. Now its Jep and his parents, who knows how many innocent people Consiflore has made disappear. He's our king, Mary. He should have done something."

The noise from the revelers in the market grew louder as the music began to play and the square became alive with dancing and shouting. A small boy struggled past, pulling a flat wagon loaded with vegetables, his small voice scarcely heard above the din as he hawked his wares. A pair of dogs, fighting over a slab of meat, charged past the couple, chased by a puffing, cursing shopkeeper.

William shook his head and stood up, eyes searching the sky for some answer to his confusion. Mary stood to one side waiting for William to come to some decision; she found it hard to imagine that her service was to people who plotted and killed innocents. A loud crash, followed by a deathly silence then shattered by a blood-curdling scream, made her jump, and her hand flew to her throat.

"What in heaven...?"

William seemed to snap back, his attention drawn to the centre of the square. "Something's happened. Quick." He grabbed her by the hand and trotted down the roadway. When they reached the square they were faced with a huge, silent crowd, all staring silently at something in the courtyard. William let go of Mary's hand and pushed his way through to the front. The sight made him gag, and he reeled back holding his mouth.

Others around could suddenly be heard muttering and sobbing, and the occasional sound of retching caused the crowd to begin dispersing. On the blood spattered cobblestones, lay the shattered body of a woman with enough of her smashed face remaining for William to recognize... Tarra Pennistyle.