Free Bedtime Story by Robert J. Wiersema Page B

for his mother, and Tamas. And Arian. Always Arian.
    The next morning, they forded the Col at a town called Donder.
    On the south bank of the river, the road was quiet. What few settlements they passed were little more than fishing camps. They rode hours without seeing another face.
    The country began to change around them. The great trees and green that Dafyd had known all his life seemed to shrink and turn brown the farther they rode from Colcott Town, and the air was dry, dusty, without the constant moistness of the sea breezes.
    Partway through the afternoon, the magus rode up on Dafyd’s right.
    “I am guessing that this is the farthest you have ever ventured from the island,” he said.
    After hours of silence, Dafyd was surprised to be spoken to, and it took him a moment to respond. “Yes.”
    “To see the country, its people … it gives us a sense of what is at stake.” A touch of sadness had entered the old man’s voice.
    Dafyd nodded. The thought had weighed heavily upon him for days. “I had no idea that the King was ill,” he said.
    “It is the best-kept secret in the kingdom,” the magus said. “Or it was, until the Berok attacked. Now …” He paused. “The two go hand in hand. The King has been sick for some time, and when the Queen had to step in, no one could know. If the Berok ever got a hint that theKing was incapacitated”—he shook his head—“they certainly would have invaded before now.”
    “But would the kingdom not rally around the Queen as much as around the King?”
    “It is not a matter of the kingdom rallying,” Loren said solemnly. “Were such a grave illness to become known, it would embolden the Berok, knowing that without an heir, one of their own is next in line for the throne.”
    Dafyd’s face betrayed his confusion.
    “Ah. You are too young to recall,” Loren said.
    “Too young to recall what?” Dafyd asked, his head reeling at the thought of a barbarian on the throne.
    “Fifteen years ago, after the Battle of Deren Plain, King Horace and the Berok king met to broker what they both hoped would be a lasting peace between the kingdoms.” Loren spoke quietly, and Dafyd had to strain to hear him. “To seal their bond, they arranged a marriage between their children, between the prince, Horace’s only son, and Tanis, the eldest daughter of the Berok king. Their union, the royal wedding, was to unite the kingdoms.”
    Dafyd struggled to understand. “Then why are the Berok—?”
    “Because their old king is gone. Died nearly five years ago now, in the Berok fashion. Killed by his eldest son, Queen Tanis’s brother, who now sits on the Berok throne. He was one of the strongest critics of his father’s diplomacy, and now that he rules, the agreements are worthless. The only bond that remains is the marriage of Tanis and the King. And now that they know of his illness—”
    The magus didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. A whistling sound came out of the air and with a startled gasp the guardsman closest to Dafyd fell backward in his saddle.
    “Dafyd, get down,” he heard the captain cry when he noticed the red shaft of the arrow lodged in the guardsman’s chest. “We are under attack!”

    “So how was that?” I asked after we’d read for almost half an hour. I tucked the bookmark into place. “Do you think it’s got some potential?”
    “Maybe,” he said, but his tone of voice and his little smile told the real story. “He’s only fifteen—that’s not much older than me. Bilbo Baggins was fifty.”
    “Well, not so long ago someone who was thirteen or fourteen was almost a grown-up. Kids were getting married and starting families when they were that age.” I stopped for a moment, trying to wrap my head around the idea. “People lived shorter lives in those days, so they had to start everything younger. That’s why when you see someone like a wizard or a mage in books like these, someone with white hair and a long beard, they’re