Chapter 15 - Castell y Blaenoraid, the tale continues...
Flintock was worried, he knew that Aneta Stepanek of Goleuedigaeth knew more than she was letting on and Aneta Stepanek knew that Flintock, although he had been truthful, he had not told the whole story. Surely, she would continue her questioning until she exposed everything. He waited for the next question.
“Tell me Elder Flintock, do you know where the boy acolyte Thomas is now?”
“No, I have no idea at all,” he said truthfully.
“And do you know where the ring of the elders is now?”
“No. I don’t know that either.”
High Elder Aneta Stepanek sat down again.
The clerk to the Elder of Elders then asked a question.
“High Elder Aneta Stepanek of Goleuedigaeth,” he spoke in his normal high and haughty manner, “you are the enlightened one and know better than anyone here. Does Elder Flintock speak truthfully and honestly?”
“My dear clerk, every word he has spoken is true.”
“Then you may step down Elder Flintock. You are free to go as you please.”
Flintock didn’t believe his luck. She must have known that he was hiding something. Llewellyn had spoken to him only hours before and told him that Thomas was only an acolyte and had little magic of his own, so why had High Elder Aneta Stepanek not caught him out when he spoke of all the amazing magic which he had witnessed Tom perform knowing it was not his own but by his father’s.
The council all rose as the Elder of Elders left through his personal door and then they all filtered out through the double doors opposite the Elder's ‘throne’.
As Flintock left, Aneta caught his eye and they walked out together turning away from the rest of the High Elders and going down to the next level.
“Don’t worry my pet,” she said in her thick Eastern European accent, "of course, I know it was not the boy, but his father who performed the real magic. But for now, that will be just our little secret!”
Before Flintock could question her, she turned again and was gone. Flintock went to follow her, but she was nowhere to be seen. What was she up to? He thought this is just the sort of politics and intrigue that kept him from seeking high office. He must find Llewellyn again and tell him what happened and ask his advice as well.
Flintock must first find Tryg as it was not good to leave a trygall alone and unaccompanied, and then he must find Llewellyn, but he had no real idea where to look. He headed back to the inn where he had met Llewellyn and where he had left Tryg. As he entered, he looked warily around and over in the small alcove they had met earlier he saw Tryg sitting with someone, but he could not make out who was in the shadows. He went over, the hooded stranger looked up, it was Llewellyn.
“How did you know I needed to see you?” Flintock asked after exchanging greetings.
“You should know by now my friend. I know most things, even the things people prefer me not to know!” he said with a laugh. They sat in the corner alcove and ordered some ale and herb tea while they discussed the day’s events.
“So, Llewel the High Elder is now just Llewel!” Llewellyn laughed as he spoke.
“Yes, and they are holding him in the dungeons for some reason. They have no crime or accusation against him, so why are they still holding him?”
“Oh, I expect it’s just to let him cool off for a while, after all, he was not exactly truthful when questioned by the council and to remind him of his place.”
“He doesn't have a place anymore, he’s just plain old Llewel the Wizard.” Flintock quipped.
“I know, but I somehow find it hard to be sad for him.”
They both smirked at each other.
Tryg had a look about him which told them he was not happy.
“If only he could talk,” said Flintock, “I wonder what the problem is with him, that is a look of disapproval if ever I saw one.”
I’ll tell you what, I have an idea, meet me in the Paddock Wood in one hour, we may be able to find out.”
An hour later, Flintock and Tryg arrived at the Paddock Wood to find Llewellyn and a familiar looking Jack Russell standing there.
“Hello Howel," said Flintock.
“Oh, this is so undignified, I am a Purple Dragon, the finest in my class, and yet I am reduced to this life of a dog. It’s really not natural, so unseemly, so undignified.”
“I’ve had a check around, there’s no one about, so you may change back if you...," Llewellyn hadn’t even finished the sentence when pop! There he stood, all sixty feet of iridescent purple dragon. He shimmered in the evening sun, ever-changing hues of purple tinged with the red of the dying sun, huge scales like armour plate, a deep red glow in his throat and wings like a huge bat with vicious spikes at the end of each finger which could pierce through armour and bone alike. Howel flexed and shook every muscle in his body, making the ground shudder a little. He could look fierce, he could be ferocious, but somehow, it was difficult to take him too seriously when he spoke. The full-on Oxford accent he had adopted, just didn’t sound right.
“Right, that is better," he said having had his little shake to make the point, "now, how may I be of service?”
Llewellyn spoke, “It’s Tryg really, he seems worried or upset about something and we hoped you might be able to tell us what is wrong.”
“Well,” he said, nuancing each syllable, "well, let me see. He is worried about Llewel, he thinks he may be trouble, although he knows that the ridiculous little imp of a wizard, my interpretation of his thoughts you understand, has and had no friends, he could still raise up a rabble to turn against the council.”
“But why would he want to do such a thing. His punishment was just for his failure to deliver Tom and the ring,” said Flintock, “surely now he would be wanting to ingratiate himself with the council to get back up the ladder again?”
“Well no, according to Tryg, who of course has the hearing qualities of a well-tuned owl, during the last couple of days of your journey, Llewel was muttering to himself, unaware that Tryg could hear every word, it seems that he is convinced that Tom is a fraud and he was going to make sure that no one believes in Tom, or in his power, or that he could save the magic in Trymyll. He believes that if he can turn the whole populace against both Tom and Llewellyn, then the boy will become so dispirited that he will believe it himself and then Tom’s own magic will fail.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen," said Llewellyn, “I’ll make sure of it. I’ll look after Tom and keep him away from any such thoughts.”
“But then you have Jon.”
“What do you mean by that?” he said slightly riled.
“Well,” continued Howel, “on a personal note, from my own observations, unless some changes are made, Jon may also decide to undermine Tom in any way he can also. He is jealous and quite put out by the recent turn of events and may likewise do all he can to make Tom fail. The poor boy feels quite rejected. Up to now he has, for all intents and purposes been your only son, now Tom is here, he feels he has not just moved down the pecking order, he’s not on it at all.”
“That’s ridiculous, he knows I love him. He knows I would never let him down.”
“It is hardly my place to say, I am after all only a dragon, albeit a very fine dragon, but how much time have you spent with Jon since Tom arrived?”
That hurt, but Llewellyn knew it was true. He had neglected his older boy; he had spent all his time with Tom and left Jon to do all the household chores. He must put that right and soon. But how? He had to involve him with Tom’s training. He wasn’t sure how, Tom was learning magic, real magic. Poor Jon could hardly light a match without striking it.