The Queen's Poisoner (The Kingfountain Series Book 1) by Jeff Wheeler Page B
Authors: Jeff Wheeler
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find something sweet to eat, she plopped down on a stool and started complaining to the helpers about how Owen had dragged her tirelessly six times around the castle.
He looked for his box of tiles, but could not find them anywhere. Divining his intent, Liona motioned to a worn leather satchel with a single strap and buckles.
“The tiles are over there,” she said kindly. “Drew brought it for you to keep the box of tiles safe. He thought you might want to carry it about. Is it too heavy for you?”
Owen went over and hefted the strap. The satchel was heavy, but he was determined. He grinned at her and shook his head.
“Everyone keeps talking about you and your little tiles and asking where they are. I keep saying, ‘Over there, in Owen’s Satchel. ’ ”
And that was how the boy from Tatton Hall earned his nickname—Owen Satchel.
The next morning, when he came to the kitchen to play with his tiles, he found the box next to the open satchel. Liona had not yet arrived and he was alone. Some of the tiles were littering the floor next to the box. Upon closer inspection, he realized they had been arranged to form little blocky letters.
O-W-E-N.
It was probably Drew. A little message from a friend. He smiled and then put it out of his mind as he began to build.
King Eredur, of blessed memory, experienced all the vicissitudes of kingship. He won the crown. He lost the crown. He won it back. The story is worthy of the epics of any age. Few have studied his reign as closely as I have, and I know that Eredur would not have regained his crown if not for his brother. Not Severn, who was always loyal, but the treacherous Earl of Dunsdworth, the brother who betrayed him and then repented. The truce following Eredur’s victory was uneasy. After all, Dunsdworth’s claim to the crown was what had made him defect in the first place. There is much secrecy and suspicion about how the earl met his fate. Some say he was poisoned. Some say he was drowned in a keg of wine. No one knows the truth. What we do know is this—he was declared a traitor. His titles and lands were forfeit, but they have been promised to his son when he comes of age. I am certain Eredur had his brother put to death in some fashion or other, for I saw the corpse. And his only son, the new lord Dunsdworth, is very much turning into the man his father was. He is a spiteful little braggart and I detest him. The lad is only twelve, and the castle staff live in terror of him.
—Dominic Mancini, Espion of Our Lady of Kingfountain
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dunsdworth’s Heir
In the two weeks that Owen had lived in the palace, his days had come to follow a routine. He would rise early in the morning and rush to the kitchen with his satchel to begin laying down tiles in intricate new arrangements. Sometimes, there would already be a design waiting for him—a few tiles arranged into a tower or a wall—but he never got there early enough to catch Drew doing it.
Each morning a meal would be shared with the king and the other children of the realm, full of sarcastic barbs and jests as the king wandered amongst his guests, looking for provocation for a taunt. Then Owen would wander the castle and the grounds with Monah Stirling, who would complain incessantly until he found a tree or wall he wanted to climb, giving her the opportunity to rest. In the afternoon, he would sit in the royal library for hours, devouring the books Monah gave him to read so she could gossip with her friends. Once she mentioned a baker from Pisan who was discovered to be Fountain-blessed. When he baked bread, the loaves seemed to magically multiply. The King of Pisan had learned about him and had the baker seized to serve in the palace kitchen. They spent a long time talking about the rare individuals whom the Fountain had gifted with extraordinary magic.
Owen perked up and listened, for he loved reading about the Fountain-blessed. When he came across such a tale in a book, he would slow
He looked for his box of tiles, but could not find them anywhere. Divining his intent, Liona motioned to a worn leather satchel with a single strap and buckles.
“The tiles are over there,” she said kindly. “Drew brought it for you to keep the box of tiles safe. He thought you might want to carry it about. Is it too heavy for you?”
Owen went over and hefted the strap. The satchel was heavy, but he was determined. He grinned at her and shook his head.
“Everyone keeps talking about you and your little tiles and asking where they are. I keep saying, ‘Over there, in Owen’s Satchel. ’ ”
And that was how the boy from Tatton Hall earned his nickname—Owen Satchel.
The next morning, when he came to the kitchen to play with his tiles, he found the box next to the open satchel. Liona had not yet arrived and he was alone. Some of the tiles were littering the floor next to the box. Upon closer inspection, he realized they had been arranged to form little blocky letters.
O-W-E-N.
It was probably Drew. A little message from a friend. He smiled and then put it out of his mind as he began to build.
King Eredur, of blessed memory, experienced all the vicissitudes of kingship. He won the crown. He lost the crown. He won it back. The story is worthy of the epics of any age. Few have studied his reign as closely as I have, and I know that Eredur would not have regained his crown if not for his brother. Not Severn, who was always loyal, but the treacherous Earl of Dunsdworth, the brother who betrayed him and then repented. The truce following Eredur’s victory was uneasy. After all, Dunsdworth’s claim to the crown was what had made him defect in the first place. There is much secrecy and suspicion about how the earl met his fate. Some say he was poisoned. Some say he was drowned in a keg of wine. No one knows the truth. What we do know is this—he was declared a traitor. His titles and lands were forfeit, but they have been promised to his son when he comes of age. I am certain Eredur had his brother put to death in some fashion or other, for I saw the corpse. And his only son, the new lord Dunsdworth, is very much turning into the man his father was. He is a spiteful little braggart and I detest him. The lad is only twelve, and the castle staff live in terror of him.
—Dominic Mancini, Espion of Our Lady of Kingfountain
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dunsdworth’s Heir
In the two weeks that Owen had lived in the palace, his days had come to follow a routine. He would rise early in the morning and rush to the kitchen with his satchel to begin laying down tiles in intricate new arrangements. Sometimes, there would already be a design waiting for him—a few tiles arranged into a tower or a wall—but he never got there early enough to catch Drew doing it.
Each morning a meal would be shared with the king and the other children of the realm, full of sarcastic barbs and jests as the king wandered amongst his guests, looking for provocation for a taunt. Then Owen would wander the castle and the grounds with Monah Stirling, who would complain incessantly until he found a tree or wall he wanted to climb, giving her the opportunity to rest. In the afternoon, he would sit in the royal library for hours, devouring the books Monah gave him to read so she could gossip with her friends. Once she mentioned a baker from Pisan who was discovered to be Fountain-blessed. When he baked bread, the loaves seemed to magically multiply. The King of Pisan had learned about him and had the baker seized to serve in the palace kitchen. They spent a long time talking about the rare individuals whom the Fountain had gifted with extraordinary magic.
Owen perked up and listened, for he loved reading about the Fountain-blessed. When he came across such a tale in a book, he would slow
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