20.15

The messenger from Karteia arrived with Erik's second Yule gift from the Blackpools. After the last one, the prince could hardly muster the courage to open the box.

In the North, the gift givers watched its arrival eagerly in Vector's viewscope. Zyrdicia had no difficulty making the device function in the Wizard's absence. Dirk was adamant that he wanted to see his enemy's face when he opened the box. The sight of the ensuing, frantic uproar in Castle Baaldorf provided an entire evening's entertainment.

As the night wore on, the royal couple's malicious laughter drew the attention of the castle's other residents. Word had spread from the servants about the spectacle on the viewscope and on an otherwise dull winter night, it was the castle's only entertainment. Eventually Geoffrey wandered in to the parlor housing the magical device, eager to get a glimpse of Princess Ariel.

"I tire of Greystone's countenance," Dirk observed amiably, already well into a third bottle of Lyrian champagne with his wife. "Change the image to the throne room."

He sent Zyrdicia the mental image, and the picture on the glass screen soon shifted in response. King Baaldorf sat in a large chair, looking like he was already at death's door. The gaunt-looking man seemed to sink farther into the large chair's cushions as though the effort of sitting up were too much for him.

"Doesn't he look ill?" Zyrdicia wondered inquisitively.

"Yes!" Dirk lifted his glass, "To Baaldorf's death! May he have no peace in the next world either!" He and Zyrdicia touched the crystal champagne flutes together with a soft clang.

A young, very petite, blonde woman entered the hall on the viewscope. In Castle Blackpool, Geoffrey gasped in awe. Clad in a complex mass of creme silk, gold lame and lace, the little woman very nearly stumbled over her own skirts. Her perfect blond curls flowed out of a heavy-looking headdress with great swaths of sheer fabric trailing down its back. She looked around the hall, confused. "Mommie?"

"Right here, dear," a tired, older woman answered. The woman's thin face looked pained, its skin stretched tightly over the cheekbones. Like her daughter, she wore a large headdress and elaborate finery, despite the somber mood in the hall.

"Mommie, why are there still so many dead people in the courtyard?"

"It will take time for our men to dispose of the bodies."

"Then why did Erik give the food to them?"

"He didn't know."

"That was such an awful thing to do! Who sends poisoned Yule feasts?!"

"Blackpool. No one else."

Ariel frowned. "Is daddy sick?"

"The poisoning has broken his heart. He's just feeling his age. That's all," Lattinia Baaldorf sighed sadly. She looked at her daughter strangely, then whispered, "Ariel listen to me!"

"What?"

"Your father's condition will put pressure on Erik to marry you to take care of our kingdom."

"It will?" Ariel asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes. Your father plans to talk to him about it again this evening. We'll have a lovely wedding when he gets back from rescuing Marko. Not the grand, stately wedding you both deserve, but we'll figure something out."

"I don't want a wedding with the castle like this! I want a ball! And a hundred musicians! And the prettiest dress anyone's ever seen!" Ariel looked as though she were on the verge of tears.

In Castle Blackpool, Geoffrey let out a strange yelping noise. Zyrdicia turned and glanced at him behind her. His face was an odd shade of green. She caught Dirk's eye, arching an eyebrow quizzically. He rolled his eyes, his disgust for his little brother's infatuation evident.

Erik Greystone entered the picture then, taking blonde woman's arm. He looked haggard. "Ariel, don't upset your father! Lower your voice."

"Oh, Erik. It's all so awful!"

"I know this must be very hard for you. It's hard for all of us. You have to be strong."

"But how can I be strong when everything's so terrible? We're trapped in here and armies are supposed to come any day and storm the castle and do icky things to us?"

"You already are being strong. You haven't cried today, have you?"

"Oh. That. No. It makes my cheeks all red and my eyes puffy. Then I have to sleep with cucumbers over my eyes. But there are no cucumbers in the castle, except poison ones, so --"

"--Well, the whole kingdom is proud of you for that," Erik interrupted impatiently.

"But that is the problem, Erik. That's what's so awful," she whined, distraught.

"I don't understand, Ariel."

"I can't go shopping. I have nothing to wear for - for -for our wedding. . ." Her lip quivered as tears welled up in her eyes.

"For our WHAT?" Erik's jaw dropped momentarily. He looked around in exasperation, shocked that she could be so callous as to whine about such a subject when countless people here had lost loved ones so recently. The castle was full of death. It was about to become the front line of a war that had taken more lives than anyone cared to think about.

"How can the kingdom be proud of me if I don't have anything beautiful to wear for -for - for it?"

"This isn't about your clothes!" the blonde prince admonished intensely, impatience beginning to line his tired-looking features.

"Yes it is! I haven't been shopping in months. All the stores in Mirdon are gone. Now I can't even leave the castle. And we haven't eaten anything but carpaccas for weeks and weeks and weeks. Carpacca stew. Carpacca pancakes. Mashed carpacca. I wouldn't mind if I never saw another carpacca in my life!"

Erik glared at the dimwitted girl in frustration. "Ariel! Be glad you still have food."

"I just want things to be like they were! With shopping and picnics and parties. Why does it have to be like this?"

"The war! Dirk Blackpool's army in Tronin is too close. It's very dangerous out there. You know what they did to the border villages." The prince intoned slowly, "You are lucky to be alive!"

"But -"

"Ariel, be grateful you aren't in one of those villages. Or the places destroyed by the earthquakes and fires."

"Did they really sell the people in Tronin into slavery?"

"The few they left alive. At least that's what our spies told us. When the northern army stormed down from Mora Valley, the people on the way to Castle Tronin just vanished."

"Vanished?" she repeated, entranced.

"Vanished."

"Well, maybe they just went to the North for all the feasting and parties. You never know."

"This is Dirk Blackpool we're talking about."

"Has he really fallen in love with a demon-thing?"

"Blackpool isn't capable of love. We fear he's made some kind of pact with the demon to destroy us all." The prince's expression became grim. "And he's holding Marko captive."

"Well, I'm sure Marko can take care of himself."

"Not this time," Erik said gravely, a deep scowl settling on his forehead.

"So what was in the box Blackpool sent you?"

Erik grimaced at the mention of the dreaded box. He looked away, hoping she did not see the tears welling up in his eyes at the mention of that evil box. His voice was subdued when he answered, "Something terrible was in it. You must never speak of it."

"Ooooh. Gotcha. So can you at least give me a hint?"

"I have to get Marko out of Castle Blackpool. With luck, I'll be back in time for Yule."

"But you promised you would-"

"-Ariel, I have to go rescue Marko!" The prince waved her away, then walked purposefully from the hall, his red cloak billowing behind him.

"Bring me back something nice for Yule. . ." she murmured hopelessly to no one in particular. He was already gone.