"Love me, and I will laugh for you, and if you can make me laugh, my laughter will, quite simply, ransom the whole of the world from death." - Catherynne M. Valente

Raven's Peak, Ardam 40

Caith was seated in Raven's Peak's hall, with the heads of the orders, and the king and his brother. He studied the stone architecture, marvelling how this city managed to stand through ages.

Perhaps it was time to move on. There haven't been any attacks in a month. Still the enemy did not retreat. To bide the time, those in Raven's Peak held a council and gave judgement on small matters concerning farmers, traders and neighbours. It bored Caith senselessly.

He couldn't fathom why he was still clinging to this pathetic rouse. Perhaps they needed him more than they'd ever admit. Even though Caith marvelled at the fact that everyone could go on pretending all was normal, the war was still not won. Pherenike had been and gone two times, but even after that, they still believed they only fought against the Darkelanders who wanted to invade Ardamland.

Ardamland! What a horrible name!

Caith did not pay any attention at all to the trifle matters of the peasants. He would rather be outside, swinging a sword, or swimming in a refreshing pool, or even the ocean. Immediately Caith felt the call of the ocean; the ocean, with its magnificent waves and great blue depths.

Stop! He chided himself. It would not help at all if he thought about water. That is the surest way to cause him to stand up and walk out - offending the fickle Vaubadons wouldn't be good at all.

"The court is closed," Ferdaid announced sternly - tugging Caith out of his boredom. Something very interesting must have happened if the court is closing before sundown. It is unheard of.

"Clear the hall immediately! Everyone out except my brother's royal councillors, the heads of Orders and their trusted councillors. Out! Now!"

I must learn to focus on the mundane, Caith noted to himself.

Friduric looked alarmed. Ferdaid looked worried, but not as much as his brother. "Speak," the latter ordered with a growl.

Caith noticed the man at the other end of the hall for the first time. He was old but wore the clothes of the Ardam guard - whose sole task it was to protect the king.

"Your Highness and lords, I fear that I am a bringer of ill news."

"Skip the formality, Teren. Just tell us," Friduric interrupted impatiently.

"Princess Aebbé's horse arrived with her maid at the city gates some ten minutes ago. They carried a letter addressed to the king. I have not read it."

"Give it to me."

The guard produced a piece of rectangular parchment and gave it to the king.

Friduric took the piece of parchment, opened it and read it silently. His face paled instantly.

"Blood of Vaubadon, that wasn't the only message they carried."

"Yes?" The king's eyebrows lifted.

The man, Teren, shifted uncomfortably. Caith noticed the bloodied bag on his shoulder for the first time.

Caith's heart lurched. On all he has ever held dear, please let that not be a head with flaxen curls.

Teren approached the king, sweat beading at his temples. He handed the saddle bag to the king who froze and dropped the bag to the ground. Caith sighed in relief as the head of a young man with carrot curls tumbled down the steps.

"My lords, it is grave news indeed for me and mine," he said without any emotion. "But I must share it with you, for it also concerns you." Friduric sighed slightly, then he continued. "Lady Ardam has been kidnapped on her journey to Da-Nel. Her entire guard has been killed. Her captors now demand that a price of thirty thousand gold pieces be paid for her release. A second letter with instructions will follow in a fortnight."

Caith couldn't help but notice, that even though the head upset him, Friduric didn't bother to acknowledge the poor departed soul.

Lord Riann was the first to speak as he stood up, his chair clawing across the stone floor. "I give you my condolences, king Friduric. However, you are right. This concerns all of us. That is a lot of gold, even in times of prosperity. In times of war, it will cripple us completely."

"Aye, the Darkelanders must have done it!" Lord Korr slammed his meaty palms on the table, causing the stack of papers to flutter anxiously.

"They could not have known about the princess returning to Da-Nel, unless, again, we have a traitor among us," Caith dared.

"Let us not dwell on that topic again - not at this instant." Ferdaid looked around and Caith caught his gaze, not missing the edge to his voice. Caith looked intently into Ferdaid's eyes - the fear disappearing before Caith could see more of Ferdaid's mind.

"Stop it!" Friduric was still as pale as the moon. "We cannot collect this amount, without risking losing the war. There is no way to help my sister, without destroying everything my father and you have fought for. I know this. What was said here today will remain only among us. If anyone whispers a word to someone else, I will execute you along with anyone sharing your blood or opinions. I promise. I need not say the words aloud, but we cannot lose this war." There was a ring of certainty in his voice.

"King Friduric, the best will be to wait for the instructions and then decide upon a course of action. It takes time to gather such an amount. The captors know this and they will give us a week at the least to decide and then some more time to gather the money. My people will do all they can to help you." Caith spoke slowly, ensuring that everyone understood him.

"Again you speak as if you know exactly what the captors will do," Ferdaid suggested bravely.

"Your brother just condemned your sister to certain death, and I was the only one brave enough to try and oppose him. You still call me a traitor when I am clearly the only one that cares for her and your family?" Caith stood up and left the hall, disregarding etiquette, and the fact that the meeting was not ended by the king. Caith was done with their senseless squabbles.

The first raindrops started to fall outside. The storm, appearing out of nowhere, would likely rage for most of the night. Caith felt the cool drops pellet against his face. He stood in the downpour until he felt the storm inside calm down.

He was done. This trickery has lasted longer than it should. Without a second thought, he spun out of the courtyard, using the abundance of water to travel to his shrine room in the Raven's Peak palace.

The king and his brother would be furious at Caith. The rest could draw their own conclusions. Caith really did not care.

However, there was a traitor in their midst. Caith had definite proof now. He would have to do something about it. The Heads would not be traitors. They were the most loyal and trustworthy of their kind. They spoke directly to their council members. Some of them were more powerful than their respective kings. Caith considered everything he knew and had seen during his stay in Raven's Peak. He pondered every person's deeds and words, and the way they reacted subconsciously to his presence.

Caith felt his blood boil, rage simmering in his heart. He knew this unbridled emotion was the darkness. It strengthened their weaknesses until it caused them to act totally irrationally.

His fury erupted and he lashed out - punching the statue next to him. Regret filled him immediately as he watched the true likeness crumble to the ground.

The statue had been given to the lord of the castle about two hundred years ago by the elves - in order to honour the Second One. He could imagine that it had been an almost impossible task, moving the statue into the shrine that had no way of entering except for the water. They probably had to break the wall down, and then rebuild it. The council required that every castle or notable city have a room or shrine for the Council, where they could sleep or stop for a rest. The shrines were different from temples, where the lessers could ask for their help. Temples for a specific Council member were only present in the territory of their lessers. Smaller castles had a combined shrine for the whole council. Raven's Peak had six separate underground shrines. Caith had not changed the original design or decorations of this one, except for adding more space, a small bed and a bookcase upon his arrival with the Second Order.

On Aydiss! Caith knew how to influence the outcome of the traitor's plans in his own favour!

Caith walked to the small hole through which fresh water entered the shrine. It filled a small basin and then left through a small drain hole. Caith admired the workmanship. It was quite basic, but it functioned wonderfully. The water was as fresh as it could be in the war. The water that exited the room was probably reused somewhere in the castle.

He wondered how the other shrines worked. Vulfgern's probably had some form of an ever-burning flame that Caith was unfamiliar with. Did they supply an endless stream of corpses to Pherenike's? Or perhaps it was over-infested with rats, always dying and procreating? It wouldn't be difficult for Folki: he could just walk to the wall, and cause the bricks to shift out of his way and then close behind him.

Caith preoccupied himself with the task at hand as he commanded the water to spill out of the basin. It would have spat in all the directions, but Caith willed it to form a perfectly circular puddle, then placing both his palms in the water. He closed his eyes and searched for the princess's energy and consciousness. He knew how she sensed because he had been aware of her when she was in Raven's Peak. He would probably be able to find anyone in or near Raven's Peak because he had spent so much time with them.

It still took an awfully long time before he could withdraw his hands.

He needed provisions for the return trip and horses. Except for the horses, he had everything else he needed in the shrine. Soon after his arrival, he moved his most valuable possessions into the shrine, to keep it away from prying eyes.

He took out two grey cloaks, four grey leggings, four grey tunics and two pairs of shoes. The clothes were ideal as it was made of a special type of material that could change according to the wearer's wishes. The grey colour should provide excellent camouflage on their return through that barren wasteland.

The three waterskins he took out of his glass trunk, filled with water from the fountain, the clothes and his box of Sitam which should be an adequate meal for the princess, fit into two bags. He took the two bags and stepped into the water, reappearing next to the water trough of his magnificent horse with a coat as sparkling as snow. After saddling and bridling his horse, he secured one of the bags onto its back. It took him a moment to find the other horse he needed, which he readied in the same fashion as his.

He took the reins of both horses in one hand and placed his other palm on the surface of the water trough.

A few seconds later Caith and the horses reappeared out of thin air next to a small pool of water in a desolate house in the town of Drako.

Drako was built half a millennium earlier, on top of the last dragon cave in the land. The lessers, especially the humans, thought they had killed the last dragon and built the town as a tribute to their victories, but they lived in ignorance of yet another thing. With the help of the Council, the dragons had slowly moved and fled to a land far to the east, where they still lived in peace. They were not as numerous as before the Great Dragon Hunts, but they still lived. Folki had ensured that the dragons would survive before the Council agreed to wipe the particulars from their memories.

The town grew and prospered for two centuries, expanding into the caves and mountains, before trade waned - leaving only a small group of inhabitants to battle with superstition. The humans believed that the dragon ground was cursed and was home to dark spirits.

Caith tied the horses' reins around a pole of wood protruding from the ground.

Wewesgest, he whispered quietly in the old language. The spell would keep the horses invisible to unfriendly eyes until he returned. He quickly undressed and dressed in the grey water-clothes before exiting the house to walk among the decaying buildings.

A grey skeleton of a cat scurried across the road, causing Caith to scowl. He did not like cats. They were sly, ugly creatures. It scared him when they made him feel as if they knew all his secrets - as if they could pry into his soul.

He knew he was in the eastern part of the town and had to go to the north to find the caves and the old prisons. The spell from earlier would work on every living thing in close proximity, also ensuring him to remain unseen.

After some distance, he reached the entrance to the prisons - two guards standing on either side. The tunnel led into the dark and curved to the left. Caith tiptoed past the two unsuspecting guards.

It took him a while to traverse the tunnels to find her. Luckily there were no guards outside the recently polished door with its new lock.

To his luck, the tunnel was quite damp. He summoned the water to his hands. Water droplets moved like little ants towards him. When the ball of water in his hands was big enough, he gently forced the water into the keyhole, forming a key. He turned it and pushed the heavy door open.