“The colonel’s waiting for you. We’ll escort both of you back to the base,” Kestrel turned to look at Lucretia with unfeigned confusion, and saw an expression of the same incomprehension on her face.
“Are you one of their spies?” she asked him. “I thought you told me you just carried a message to the colonel.”
“That’s all I did,” Kestrel affirmed.
“Let’s get moving please,” the spokesman for the trio of escorts suggested.
Kestrel reached out for Lucretia’s hand and they squeezed their fingers together as they walked through the bushes, passing other couples who were also seeking privacy among the bushy environs, and who shied away from the harsh, bright lanterns.
There was no conversation among the group as they crossed the festival grounds and walked across the city, though Kestrel and Lucretia held onto one another’s hand throughout the journey. When they reached the gates to the guard base, the escorts halted.
“Miss, you’ll need to come with me for a brief conversation. Kestrel, we’ll take you up to the colonel’s office,” the spokesman said.
“What is there to say to Lucretia? She should be free to go!” Kestrel said insistently, maneuvering his body between her and the three others, shocked at this new twist.
“We mean her no harm, Kestrel,” one of the other agents spoke firmly. “We just have reason to believe that you have told her parts of your story that we believe should be kept very confidential for the sake of all parties involved. Lucretia will only have a few minutes to chat with us, and then she’ll be on her way.
“You’ll go to the colonel, receive your next assignment, and that’ll be that. There’s no sinister harm or plan,” he explained in a patient tone.
Kestrel turned to look at Lucretia. She nodded, then raised up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “We’ll talk tomorrow; I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for giving me so much adventure today!” she murmured with a crooked smile, then released his hand and left with the escort who had not spoken.
“What is this all about?” Kestrel asked the other two as they began to walk towards the same administrative building he had visited just the night before.
“Colonel Silvan is waiting to talk to you personally. You’ll learn whatever he has to say to you in just a minute,” the escort replied stoically.
They walked silently across the base and returned to the building that was the headquarters for the head of the elven spy network. Kestrel and his escorts climbed upwards, and found Giardell, the model elven guard, once again on duty outside Silvan’s door. “We’re delivering the agent as ordered,” Kestrel’s escort reported to Giardell with a salute, and then departed.
The hallway was once again dimly lit by wall-mounted candle sconces. Once again, Kestrel stood uncertainly, waiting for an interview. He thought about Lucretia’s kiss, and he thought about Cheryl back in Elmheng. His evening spent in the bower with Lucretia had not led to anything improper, anything that would have been embarrassing to describe back home, but that was perhaps only because the two of them had been interrupted before something had happened.
He would see Lucretia again in the morning; he had time to think about what he was doing before he saw her.
“Kestrel!” he heard his name called sharply, and realized that it had been called more than once while he had been lost in thought about the two girls. Giardell had called, and was motioning slightly to the doorway where Colonel Silvan’s head was visible, the wavering reflection of a candle shining off the top of his bald pate.
“Will you come in please, Kestrel?” the colonel asked.
Kestrel nodded at Giardell and entered the office, before Silvan closed the door and circled around behind his desk for a seat. He motioned for Kestrel to sit in the same chair he’d occupied the previous night.
“Well Kestrel, I’m sure you’re anxious to know why you’ve been called here so suddenly,” Silvan said.
“Yes sir, I am,” he replied immediately.
“Last night I told you to go out and enjoy the city; I didn’t expect you’d create circumstances for the city to enjoy you! Here you are in the city for twenty four hours and already drawing attention to yourself. Do you know what I hear the city rumors say?” the colonel asked.
“No sir,” Kestrel replied.
“There’s a human who has a sprite familiar who is going to win the archery contest and marry the princess! Can you believe that? Now who do you suppose they are talking about?” Silvan asked.
Kestrel stared at the colonel in disbelief. “None of that is true sir!” he cried.
“Yet that’s what some people are saying,” Silvan answered mildly. “Every one of the facts is wrong, except possibly the part about you winning the competition. But people will talk, and rumor will always tell a better story than the truth, and tell it quick. Even though, in this case, the truth of your story would satisfy the street crowds well enough.
“I didn’t expect you to call attention to yourself so effectively Kestrel. You may have an assignment coming up for me, and you can’t be effective if you’re a public figure.”
Intuitively, Kestrel grasped something of what Silvan was leading to. “You want me to be a spy!”
“Kestrel, I want to decide if there’s a way you can serve the elven cause. Until I make that decision, I don’t want to see the opportunity lost because you become too prominent,” Silvan said. He was suddenly business-like, as he withdrew a round cylinder from a desk drawer. Kestrel recognized it for what it was: a blue-ribbon messenger tube. “You are ordered to leave Center Trunk at dawn tomorrow and to carry this message to Commander Cosima in Firheng. Giardell has a supply bag ready and waiting for you outside the office.”
“But the tournament tomorrow!” Kestrel protested.
“You will miss the tournament. Your friend Lucretia has been informed by now that she should report your withdrawal from the tournament and make your farewells to your comrades for you,” Silvan calmly agreed.
“Can I say good bye to Lucretia?” Kestrel asked, morosely, knowing that he had no recourse to the direct order that he had just been given.
“Lucretia has been told that she will not see you again, and she is not to ever discuss with anyone any of the stories you have told her about your experiences. That is an order given to her, Kestrel,” Silvan emphasized.
“I don’t want to be a spy,” Kestrel tried to protest. “Why Firheng?”
“I am just using you as a courier at this point. No one has decided that you have to be a spy, and no one will force you against your will to carry out any spy activities,” Silvan answered. “Is there anything else?”
There was. There was so much more Kestrel wanted to know, and so much he wanted to protest, but he couldn’t put it all into words. He was frustrated by the way such a glorious day had been ripped from the calendar of his life before it had even finished, and been made into a distant and pointless memory.
He was standing and saluting, he realized. “I’ll see you again, Kestrel, and you’ll understand more next time,” the colonel was saying. “And we will have a discussion.”
“Thank you sir,” he said, still not able to verbalize, or even understand, all that he felt. He left the room in a daze, then paused in the hallway as he tried to get his bearings.
“Do you want these?” Giardell asked after a moment of observing the immobilized, uncomprehending look on Kestrel’s face as he struggled to cope with the unseen wall his life had been dashed against. Giardell hold up the knapsack of supplies and materials that were prepared for Kestrel.
“Thank you,” Kestrel said automatically as he stepped over and accepted the offered items. He placed the straps over his shoulder, then went down the hall and out the door without a backwards glance.
Silvan’s door opened, and he came out into the hallway to stand by his guard. “I didn’t expect to have to set him in motion so quickly; I had thought we’d have a little more time to prepare him,” the officer said.