CHAPTER 18: "The High Eagle"

SIR OLIVER

The halls of the fortress had changed since Sir Oliver last walked through them. The marble pillars and floors just looked grayer. There was an air of neglect.

When they arrived at the court, the Knights of Cambria sat patiently around their semi-circular Table, awaiting Sir Oliver and his new squire. An empty seat remained on the left half, one usually occupied by Oliver. Some of the knights feigned smiles at the sight of him, but as expected, more of the knights pouted. Always great to see old friends, he joked to himself, realizing he did not have friends.

"Kneel," he commanded Ari and Prince Richard. "One knee."

The young people silently obeyed.

The High Eagle, the Order's lord if they could ever have one, spoke first. "Sir Oliver Boumgarden. You've come home. We thought it maybe to be impossible. You have vanquished the demon and fulfilled your quest, no?"

With his many years as High Eagle, Taron Blomquist, had perfected his pretentious tone of voice.

Sir Oliver answered, "The dragon has proven a worthy adversary. More worthy than anticipated. We have come to learn more about the beast from the Order's library. And... I thought it past due that I introduce the Order to my new squire."

"Ah yes," Taron chimed. "A coat of blue, moon and stars. A highborn of Nightingshire? A formidable choice of squire. What is your name, boy?"

"Prince Richard Youngblood," the Prince answered. "But I--"

"I am Sir Oliver's squire," Ari spoke up.

It seemed that even the feigned smiles were gone now, all but for Tobias Snow, who suppressed a laugh.

The High Eagle did not expect this. "You?"

"Aye," Ari said. "I am Jason. I belong to no noble house."

"Oliver," Taron said, "please join us at the Table, will you?"

Sir Oliver did not like the looks he was getting. The lack of appreciation did not need to be said. It was felt. He fell into his hard wooden chair and looked around at his colleagues. Tobias Snow had a crooked smile under his white mustache.

The High Eagle spoke to Ari now. "Jason. You are a squire of the Order. Have you made connection to Osha? Has she spoken to you?"

"I was told by Sir Oliver that Osha was not a woman," Ari answered.

Sir Oliver laughed but he was alone. He even thought he heard Bertrand Norbert, Healer of Men and Shield for the Depraved, gasp in shock. Oh, the blasphemy! Sir Oliver thought, sarcastically.

"Osha thrives with Jason," Sir Oliver informed them. "He has already conjured the force of projection on an enemy."

But when he looked at Ari, it was apparent that it was still not something she was proud of.

"Your swordsmanship?" the High Eagle asked.

"I have practiced a few times," Ari answered. "With Sir Galen of Nightingshire."

"Jason is mostly learning fundamentals at this time," Sir Oliver interrupted. This received a number of blank stares from the knights around the Table.

"Jason," the High Eagle said. "Prince Richard. Might you excuse the knights of the Table for a private word?"

Ari and Prince Richard were escorted away by two men in long white robes, with shaved heads and solemn gazes. Sir Oliver had heard that these monks had been employed by the Order recently, but that might also have been three years ago. His mind was rarely on their affairs. He believed them to be called, "Doves."

When the doors of the hall closed and echoed, Taron looked to Sir Oliver. "You have been away for quite some time."

"Is that a question or a condemnation?" Sir Oliver asked.

"It is merely the truth," answered the High Eagle.

"So long, he is blind to color!" cut in the fat, jolly, Boris Sarkady, Wrestler of Bears and Tamer of Queens. Boris looked old, a man nearing the end of his knighting days.

Now Sir Oliver was more angry than mildly amused. "You fat bastard, what do you care of the boy's color?"

"Oh, nothing," Boris chuckled, with the indication he did care. From the avoided eye contact all around, Sir Oliver felt like they all cared that Ari was not from Cambria.

"There will be no juvenile insults in my court," the High Eagle warned Sir Oliver.

"'Tis not an insult," the knight replied. "Boris's true father was a troll of the Third Hell. And he is fat, that is fact"

"All that time spent sucking the salt of the ocean has made you bitter, Sir Oliver," Tobias Snow cut in.

"Enough!" the High Eagle warned, this time with fury. He said more quietly, "Sir Oliver, tell us why you have made a Hellion your squire."

Sir Oliver laughed, "A Hellion? Look at the boy. Has he three eyes? Wings? The fangs of a viper? He is a child, no Hellion. And he is my squire because Osha is with him. I felt it. He knocked me on my arse."

"The boy attacked you?" Tobias Snow asked.

"Well..." Sir Oliver started. "We had a momentary misunderstanding. He's been nothing but valiant ever since."

"And why have you brought the Prince of Nightingshire to Grand Falls?" asked Taron.

"His father requested," Sir Oliver answered. "Not my choice. The boy is a scribe. He is here to learn from our library. As am I, in fact."

"Grand Falls does not allow guests," the High Eagle reminded him.

"It does not allow happiness either," Sir Oliver joked.

The High Eagle stared down Sir Oliver for a moment, just long enough to give him chills. Taron knew how to do that, even if he did not know how to smile. Finally, he said, "You may have a few more months to train Jason."

"I may?" Sir Oliver laughed. "Is that not up to the discretion of the knight?"

"It is not," the High Eagle said, stoic. "As I said, you have been away a long time. Things have changed, Sir Oliver."

"Aye," the knight responded.

"You have had a long journey from Nightingshire," Taron said. "We shall adjourn for now and let you and the boys rest."

Sir Oliver had never risen from his chair faster.

///

Outside, in the hall, Ari and Prince Richard awaited on the railing, Richard watching a gorgeous sunset. Less interested, Ari hopped over to Oliver.

"Is everything good?" she asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

Sir Oliver shook his head. "Do not fret," he said warmly. "Dear Dove!" he called to one of the monks who escorted Ari.

The monk turned to face him.

"Show these young men the library," Sir Oliver said. He turned to Ari, and spoke softly so Richard could not hear, "I am going to the Aviary to see if there is any word from Fatime about our... predicament. But... try to put it out of your mind, my squire."

He put his paw of a hand on her shoulder, and walked off towards the Aviary.

Exiting the hall was Tobias Snow, who was looking for a conversation that Sir Oliver did not want to have. He walked on, but Tobias followed him.

"This is real, then?" he asked.

"Pinch yourself, Tobias, and find out," Sir Oliver said dryly.

"The boy has a rather high voice," Tobias said. "Not very manly."

"His stones have yet to settle. What's your excuse?"

Tobias grabbed Sir Oliver by the arm to stop him from walking away. He warned, "Do not cast me out. I am the last friend you have at this Table."

Sir Oliver shook his arm free, saying, "Then it appears I have no friends here." The knight walked off with, "Good night, Tobias."