“Thank you, Peter, that will be all for now,” said Trian. He took hold of Peter’s arm, hoisted the man from his chair, led him—bowing and staggering—past king and queen and mysteriarch.
“I’ll see to it that he has no memory of this, Your Majesty,” Trian promised in a low voice. “Oh, may I suggest that Your Majesties do not drink the wine.” He left the room with Peter, shutting the door behind them.
The wizard was gone a long time. His Majesty’s guards did not accompany the king to the wizard’s study, but took up positions at a discreet distance, about thirty paces away, at the far end of the hall. Trian accompanied Peter down the hall, relinquished the inebriated footman to the guards, with orders that the man be taken somewhere to sleep off his intoxication. Such was the effect of the wizard’s sweet wine mat when the befuddled Peter awoke, he would have no memory of having ever been in the Imp-er-non.
By the time Trian returned to his study, he found that the shock of the news had worn off somewhat, though the alarm was, if anything, more intense.
“Can this be true?” Stephen demanded. The king had risen to his feet and was pacing the study. “How can we trust this great idiot?”
“Simply because he is a great idiot, sire,” said Trian, standing, his hands folded before him, his manner deliberately calm and tranquil. “This is one reason I wanted you to hear his story from the man himself. He is certainly not clever enough to have made up such a tale. I have questioned him most extensively and am satisfied that he is not lying. And then there is this.”
Trian lifted the object from his desk, the object mat Peter had brought—a present from Bane to his mother. Trian held it out, not to Anne, but to Iridal.
She stared at it, blood mounting her cheeks, then draining, to leave her more pale than before. The object was a hawk feather, decorated with beads, suspended from a leather thong. Innocent in appearance, the gift was such as a child might make under the instructions of his nursemaid, to please any mother’s fond heart. But this feather necklace had been made by a child of magic, son of mysteriarchs. The feather was an amulet and through it, the child could communicate with the mother. His true mother. Iridal reached out a trembling hand, took the feather, and held it tight.
“It is from my son,” she said, though she spoke without a voice.
Trian nodded. “Let me assure you all, Your Majesties, Lady Iridal, that I would not have put you through this ordeal if I weren’t absolutely certain that what Peter says is the truth. The child he saw was Bane.”
Stephen flushed at the implied rebuke, muttered something beneath his breath that might have been an apology. With a heavy sigh, he slumped into his seat. The king and queen moved nearer each other, leaving Lady Iridal sitting alone, slightly apart.
Trian came to stand before the three. The wizard stated firmly and calmly what they all knew, but perhaps had not, even now, accepted.
“Bane is alive, and he is in elven hands.”
“How is this possible?” Anne demanded in a choked voice, her hand at her throat, as though she were suffocating. She turned to Lady Iridal. “You said they took him away! To another land! You said Alfred took him away!”
“Not Alfred,” Iridal corrected. The initial shock was receding; the mysteriarch was beginning to realize that her dearest wish was coming true. “The other man. Haplo.”
“The man you described to me, the one with the blue skin,” said Trian.
“Yes.” Iridal’s eyes shone with the brilliance of her hope. “Yes, he was the one. He took my son away…”
“Then he has apparently brought him back,” said Trian dryly. “For he is also in the elven castle. The footman saw a man with blue skin in company with the prince. It was this detail, perhaps more than any other, that convinced me the man’s story was true. Aside from the Lady Iridal, myself, and Your Majesties, none here knows about the man with blue skin or his connection with Bane. Add to this the fact that Peter not only saw Bane, but spoke to him. Bane recognized the footman and called him by name. No, sire. I repeat. There can be no doubt.”