The "Pit"

If any of you write, you realize that sometimes the characters just don't want to follow the plot and will move in directions you don't want them to move in. They do this in a verity of ways: you're too busy with another character to notice their motives, they absolutely refuse to do something (that's why I can't kill Notment), etc. Thomas is one such character. I almost did not put this in the story, but as I thought about later in the story, it kinda becomes important. He almost tricked me into skipping this by playing the laid back friend to the main character. Well, Thomas, I'm sorry. You're just going to have to suffer. To the story!
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Martin spent the next few days in a bit of a daze. After his meeting with Suit, he couldn’t quite look around the Tree the same way. Everyone treated him not as Suit’s apprentice, but as a fellow spy and with respect. It was an adjustment.

“Another problem you have,” Luke said when he mentioned it. “You simply cannot accept praise. You think there’s something wrong with it.”

“Praise was rare for me,” Martin grumbled. “To suddenly have it… it’s different.”

Luke tried to imitate his annoying shrug. “Just wait until you tell them the truth.” Martin glared at his friend who successfully ignored him. Shaking his head, Martin returned his attention to saddling Rowan. It was time to return to the convoy and their journey to the gathering of princes.

“What’s your excuse for joining us?” Martin asked, changing the conversation. “I know why I’m going, but I don’t think my excuse is going to fit you.”

Luke finished hitching a wagon to its team of horses. “The queen said our excuse is that we’re servants she hired especially for our unique… skills.”

“So,” Martin added together, “they’ll know you two are spies?”

Luke scowled. “We’re to deter suspicion from you. You’re the one who’s doing the real spying.”

Martin shrugged. “I think you’ll have enough to spy on. Most nobles ignore servants. Those at the estate are being trained as the prince. They’ll try to ignore you.”

“Right,” Luke snorted. “But I know who the prince is, and he doesn’t ignore anyone.”

“He has a point,” Thomas grumbled, coming from around the wagon. “Our prince doesn’t ignore things.” Martin and Luke exchanged glances. Thomas was known to be so laid back, he would fall asleep in class. It took a lot to anger the messy-haired spy.

“Something wrong?” Luke asked.

“It’s none of your business,” Thomas snapped, stalking away. Luke frowned.

“What’s wrong with him?” Luke asked. Martin just shrugged and did not answer. Thomas had every reason to be angry; Martin often felt the same way when people tried to talk to him about his street days.

“If he’s going to be like that through the trip,” Luke grumbled, “then I’m going to punch some sense into him.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Martin warned. “He’d punch you right back.”

Luke frowned. “Do you know…”

“WHY CAN’T I COME?”

The two spies darted to the other end of the wagon and looked around it, watching the scene in the center of the stables. Princess Sara and Queen Abigail were glaring at each other. Again.

To anyone just passing by, they would have thought the queen was arguing with a younger version of herself. The princess had the same grey eyes and flaxen hair; even the same slim, yet commanding, frame. However, Sara had yet to gain her mother’s controlled temper. She was also the only one who could make the queen’s temper flare.

“It’s too dangerous!” the queen snapped, her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to endanger both of my children! If something goes wrong there you will be safe here!”

“But I want to help find my brother!” the fourteen year old girl yelled. “I care about him too!” Martin shivered at that. When he and the princess first met, she had accused him trying to control her life; he had just been another adult who was trying to protect her. Then after he had been put on the list, the princess suddenly found him fascinating. But she did care.

Abigail took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you care,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I want you both safe. And that can’t happen now. Terk still wants to kidnap you. This is the safest place for you. I promise you, once we find your brother, we will come back and you can spend as much time with him as you want. Alright?”

Sara grew red in the face. “FINE!” she screamed and ran out of the stables. Abigail sighed, rubbing her face. She looked exhausted from the fight.

“First Thomas yelled at her, and now Sara. The queen has had a rough few days,” Luke said. He turned to Martin. “When are you going to yell at her too?”

“I don’t plan on yelling for a while yet,” Martin replied smoothly. “Come on, we’ve still got to finish packing.”
*********
For the next week, Martin could feel the tension building. It wasn’t from the majority of the caravan; they were a bit tired, yes, but on the whole, the caravan was well. No, the tension came from another source. By the end of each day, Thomas got more angry, Luke more annoyed, and the queen just frustrated. And Martin didn’t even have to open himself to the emotions to feel it.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Sona asked him a week after they left the Tree, glancing in the general direction of the queen and two spies. His friends had been assigned to tend to the queen during the day while they traveled. Martin also glanced at them, focusing on Thomas.

“Yes,” he admitted with a sigh. “We’re taking Thomas home.”

The pretty researcher frowned. “Taking him home? Shouldn’t he be happy about it?”

Martin snorted. “Oh, yes, that makes a big difference. That would be like me saying I’d be glad to go back to Loman.” Sona gave him a confused look.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said softly, “that sometimes ‘home’ is the worst place to be.” Sona frowned again, clearly confused. She started to ask something else when the queen’s strong voice called out.

“Ghost Eighty-One!” she ordered. “I will need your assistance tonight!”

“Great,” Martin muttered, noticing the rest of the caravan stop for the night. “We’re here.” Saying farewell to Sona, he steered his horse to where Abigail, Petra, Luke, and Thomas were waiting. He had been told the day before that he would be joining them to take Thomas home. Apparently, he had a calming effect on the messy spy; something Abigail wanted for this trip.

As he was expecting, the emotions were the same that had been building all week. Petra was clearly confused as he noticed the tension between the three. As they started on the trip, he rode next to the Alex.

“Any clue what’s happening?” the commander asked. “Luke has no idea what is happening either.”

“I know what’s happening,” Martin sighed. “But it’s not my place to say anything.”

“Why don’t you,” Thomas spat, turning around on his mount to glare at them. “They’re going to learn anyway once we get there. My pa isn’t expecting us to show up.” Queen Abigail, Luke, and Petra looked confused.

Martin shook his head. “I promised you that I wouldn’t say anything.”

Thomas glared at him a moment before sighing and bowing his head with a shake. “That was years ago, Martin. And we’re almost there.”

“I still promised,” Martin pointed out softly. “Because I understood.”

“Say,” Petra interrupted, pointing ahead. “Isn’t that Duke Dawson’s castle?”

Luke stared up at the tall castle that stood atop the hill, frowning at it. Suddenly his face paled. He spun around to stare at Thomas.

“You’re Duke Richard’s runaway son?”

Thomas glanced away. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, kicking his horse onward, though by his expression they could see he did not want to go. Ignoring the confused glances from the others, Martin urged his horse up next to Thomas. The messy spy was shaking but not from anger. From fear.

“I’m here with you,” he said softly to his friend. Thomas raised his head and tried to smile.

“Thanks,” he sighed, looking up the face of the castle, “but I doubt you can help. It’s not going to be pretty meeting him.”

Martin also glanced up the castle walls. It was of an old design made of grey stone, with tall battlements and arrow slits in the walls. It had been built more as a fort than a castle. The air seemed colder and the light dim. The tall iron wrought gates were shut; Martin had the impression they were also barred. There was just something wrong about all of it.

“It used to be nice place,” Thomas whispered, staring at the battlements where they could see men on patrol. “Back when my grandpa was still the duke. To make the castle more inviting, he allowed the forest vines to climb the walls. The gate was never shut. We were free to do what we wanted. But then… he died when I was still just a kid. My pa got worse after that.”

Martin didn’t say anything; he heard the story before, back when Thomas first joined the spy network. It had just been a couple years after he had joined. For some reason, Martin knew he could relate to the new kid with the messy black hair. Looking back to that day, he knew it was his blocked powers trying to help the new kid who had gone through much to find a better place. And it was for his benefit as well: he had told Thomas about his painful past. Together, they managed to heal their broken spirits where others just could not understand.

All too soon, they approached the gate. The guard on duty pulled the peek door open to glare at them. It was a grizzled face covered in salt and pepper beard and with small suspicious eyes.

“Who approaches?” he demanded to know. “What is your business here?”

“Funny, Eric,” Thomas said sarcastically. “Real funny.”

“Young lord!” Eric exclaimed. He slammed the peek door closed and ordered the gate to be opened. It was only opened large enough for the guard to slip past.

“This isn’t a good time to be here,” the guard whispered, casting a terrified glance back at the castle. “He’s not…”

“He’s not what?” Abigail asked, riding up. The guard paled as he recognized the queen in the dim light.

“Your Majesty!” he exclaimed, bowing low before her. “I had no idea you would be arriving.”

“Our arrival isn’t supposed to be known,” she said, putting on her queen’s mask. “We will be staying the night here before continuing on our journey tomorrow. Is the duke home?”

The guard actually flinched. “Yes… But he’s not really in the condition to receive your royal majesty.”

“Is he ill?” the queen asked, suspicious. “Then I must visit him.” The gate was already opening; the other guards also recognized the queen. Eric stuttered, obviously trying to find an excuse for the queen to not see the duke. Ignoring him, she rode past and into the inner courtyard. Thomas sighed and followed.

Servants rushed forward to take care of their horses as they dismounted. Martin reluctantly gave Rowan’s reigns to the stable hand. Normally, he would take care of his horse himself, but he knew he had to be with Thomas through this. The others just couldn’t understand. Thomas was about to face his own personal nightmare.

A servant came running out of the main castle and bowed to them. “Your Majesty!” he said, bowing. “I’m afraid you have caught us at a bad time. His Grace is…”

“I’m seeing him,” the queen said, folding her arms. The look on her face quailed any attempts to convince her otherwise. With a sigh, the servant bowed again.

“This way.” He trudged up the main steps. The queen followed, motioning them to follow. Thomas groaned and dragged his feet after them. Martin walked beside his friend. Behind them, Petra and Luke were talking softly, their conversation about the sudden and confusing events of the evening.

Inside the castle matched the outside. Dull grey stone and a sense of wrongness. Martin shivered as he walked through the barren walls. Noble houses often had tapestries hanging on the walls to create color and provide insulation. Thomas’s childhood home had nothing to bring warmth or color. Even the glass windows were covered by heavy brown drapes.

“We’re nearly there,” the servant said, glancing back to them. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a bit of time to refresh yourself?”

“We are fine,” the queen insisted.

CRASH!

They jumped as the sound filled the halls. “What was that?” the queen demanded to know.

“I don’t care!” a voice bellowed from the floor above. “Get me another drink!” The demand was followed by another sound of something breaking. It sounded like glass. Thomas sighed.

“That’s my pa,” he said bitterly. “Drunk again.”
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I'm sorry that this is a short post. I didn't get much written this week, thanks to: being suddenly yanked back into school, I caught a cold, and we have family visiting this weekend, meaning that the day has been devoted to cleaning the house. Oh, well. Next week, I hope to finally get to the Genlend estate, but we'll just have to see. April is my busiest time at school. Go fig.

Enjoy the journey!