The Chronicle:

Melisandre awakened with that disorienting, bleary, someone-glued-my-eyes shut feeling that indicated that she had slept way too long. Stiffness in her limbs, back, and neck, a sticky and unpleasant taste in her mouth, and an overall impression of being sweaty and damp completes the picture, and she took a moment to smack her lips and looked around with vague disinterest at her surroundings in an attempt to get oriented.

The bed was comfortable - more than comfortable, truth be told, with several feather pillows, and a goosedown quilt. The furniture was also of excellent manufacture - opulant even. The sort of thing that Melisandre would expect to find in the home of an extremely rich Don like Lucas. Or Andres.

Who was dead.

Along with King Sandoval.

Threatening Castille with civil war.

That she was going to Montaigne to prevent.

Through the Selva des Fendes.

Which this wasn't.

Melisandre rocketed upright in bed, peering around as alarms sounded in her head. There was one door and one window. Slipping from between the sheets as quietly as possible she checked both and found both the door and the shutters to the window securely locked. It was likely that either could be broken open - neither looked particularly sturdy - but there would certainly be noise. A quick check of the room revealed a dresser full of nice clothes, make-up, hair brushes, etc., a chamber pot under the bed (which immediately awakened certain bodily urges that Melisandre did her best to ignore for the moment), a shelf with several bound books, and a desk on which sat a covered tray, a small hand bell, and a piece of folded paper. Notably absent were such things as hairpins or long, thin pieces of metal or wood that could be used as lockpicks. Even the bristles on the brushes were too soft to be used for such a purpose.

With a slight frown, Melisandre turned a casual glance toward the tray, surmising that her captors had apparently provided food. She didn't feel much like eating at the moment and with any luck the folded piece of paper might shed some enlightenment on her current situation. The paper was of high quality. Written on it in a strong, yet elegant masculine hand were the words "Ring bell for apology."

So her captor was at least partially civilized. She wasn't tied to a chair at swordpoint this time which was definitely a bonus. She poured water into the washbasin and took a moment to tidy up. She noted that she wore a sleeping gown, nicely tailored but not her own, and had visions for a moment that made her shudder. Squaring her shoulders, she made a mental note to address that particular issue and changed into one of the dresses to be had from the closet, unsurprised to find it fit perfectly. Her captors seemed to know far too much. Refreshed and ready, she picked up the bell and rang it, waiting to see who responded.

There were footsteps in the hall and a rattle in the lock, and a girl of about fourteen entered, dressed as a lady's servant. She curtsied deeply and said "Good evening Y..." She paused and started again. "Good evening. My name is Jacinda. How may I be of service?"

Melisandre smiled graciously at the girl. It would not due to treat the servants poorly, no matter the circumstances. "I found upon waking that I'm not in the same place where I went to sleep. Could I prevail upon you to tell me where I am and where my companions are? I would like to rejoin them." It was an effort to keep the concern out of her voice as thoughts of her friend's wellfare surfaced. Surely they would have won free of any altercation. Constanza was well versed with those pistols. Lucas, Ferdinand and Sebastiano all handled the sword with expertise, although Ferdinand was forbidden... Strange that she would have slept through it, although the unpleasant taste in her mouth would indicate a sleeping draught of some sort. Perhaps Knight Inquisitor Paolo? He'd made her uncomfortable...She pushed the musings away to concentrate on the present, waiting for Jacinda to reply.

"If you please..." replied Jacinda, "you are in the home of my father Don Lisandro de Grijalva. "I am instructed to tell you that my brother or father will explain matters to you. But they are asleep at present. One of the servants has gone to waken them, but they will need to dress before they can meet with Y... you. In the meantime I am to make you comfortable and attend to your needs." Jacinda curtsied again.

A puzzled expression settled on Melisandre's face. Perhaps she'd misheard the girl. "Your father? But then you would be a Doña in your own right and it would be improper to expect that you wait on me. I would however, like to know the whereabouts of my companions. Don Lucas de Aldana, Doña Constanza de Orduño, Sebastiano Biancastro and Fer... I mean, 'Beggar John' and Knight Inquisitor Paolo. Are they also here?"

"I am afraid I am not aquainted with your companions," said Jacinda, "though I have of course heard of the brave and noble Captain Orduño, and of Lucas de Aldana. 'Knight Inquisitor' - isn't that a rank within the Holy Inquisition? None of your companions are currently in residence here. Perhaps my father knows of their whereabouts."

Melisandre nodded. She'd figured as much but had held out hope. "Then I suppose I shall have to wait. Perhaps you would care to join me and tell me about your family? I'm afraid my social education was a bit lax and I apologize for not recognizing the name." She gave the girl her most charming smile, hoping to glean a bit of information as to why this Don had seen to her abduction.

Jacinda seemed quite recicent to speak of her family. "Forgive me... but I believe that either my father or my brother will discuss such matters with you, and I would not like to bore you with an inadequate presentation." She seemed a bit flustered, as if unsure what to do at the moment, then her eyes lit on the dresser. "Perhaps if you like I could brush your hair and put it up for your meeting. I am quite skilled at styling. There are also several adornments that would go well with the dress you have selected."

"It's been some time since I've had anyone set my hair and rarely do I have time to do much with it myself. I'd be honored to have you help me with it." Melisandre stood and crossed to the dressing table, seating herself on the chair. "I've often thought of cutting it since we travel so much, but I just can't bear to do it. Papa used to brush it for me when I was very little. We'd sit by the fire after my bath and he'd brush it until it was dry." And Papa would encourage her to bide her time until an opening presented itself, just as it had when she was held prisoner by the Butcher. With an inaudible sigh she resolved to make the best of the situation. Picking up the brush, she offered it to Jacinda. "I do hope it won't be too long before I'm able to speak with Don Grijalva."

Jacinta seemed to be very good at such things, as she deftly begans handling Melisandre's hair with the aid of a brush and comb. "I am sure that father will dress as quickly as possible, but he must, of course, take sufficient time to present himself well. It is not every day that..." The sentence remained unfinished as Jacinta concentrated on combing.

Trying to remain as casual and relaxed as she could, Melisandre said very thoughtfully, "As you can see, my hair is rather thick. Do you think you could put in a few extra pins? I wouldn't want it falling down in the middle of my audience with your family."

"Certainly," replies Jacinda, and begins doing just that, "though they make poor weapons, don't you think?"

"Weapons? Certainly not." Melisandre glanced rather reproachfully at the girl. "I've found negotiation the better path to use and being a physician, I find life rather important. I wouldn't harm someone unless there were no other way and even then would find it difficult." Her eyes clouded a moment as she remembered a certain night in Freiburg. "But it would make me feel far more comfortable were you to give me some clue as to why I'm here. I prefer to be prepared for important meetings and I have a feeling this is rather important, else I would not have been spirited away whilst I slept."

"The woman who escaped from General du Toille is not a woman to be underestimated," replied Jacinda primly (Melisandre gots the distinct impression that she was quoting someone, but she didn't know who). She then sighed a bit with resignation. "Surely you cannot but believe us to be kidnappers in this matter, and in truth your beliefs are not unfounded. I assure you, however, that we did not intend it to be thus - my father had intended to approach you in secret, but recent events forced us to move with haste. More than this I cannot tell you for I am strictly commanded not to do so. Rest assured, however, that following certain conversations which you are, admittedly, required to attend, you will have your freedom. We are not monsters, regardless of what others have said."

Before Melisandre couldn respond to this, there came the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway, followed by a short pause (Melisandre could easily envision someone straightening clothing and hair outside the door), followed by a short, formal knock upon the door.

With an apologetic smile, Melisandre said quietly, "I bear you no ill will, I am merely a bit unsettled." She got to her feet and turned to the door, chin lifted to face whatever awaited her. "Come in."
 

Despite the invitation, the door did not immediately open. Instead Jacinda moved to the door and opened it. She glanced out, then announced: "May I present Don Estevan Grijalva, my brother." She opened the door a bit wider so that Melisandre could see a Castillian man, dressed in tasteful, if somewhat dated evening garb (though "dressed" might be going a bit far - "wearing" would probably be a better description, as it was obvious that he had dressed in a hurry). Rather than being classically handsome, he had a rather rugged look to him with deep-set eyes that suggested that he had seen much. His expression was somber, and he boweds formally, but made no move to enter the room.

"Your pardon for the lateness of the hour, but I would appreciate a few minutes of your time if you are sufficiently recovered from your ordeal. I understand that we have gotten off to a horrendeously bad start, but I hope that you will indulge me by allowing me to explain the situation." One corner of his mouth quirked up, ever so slightly. "And I have promised an apology as I recall." His expression turned somber again, "Would the library be acceptable? Or would you prefer the dining room?"

Melisandre executed a graceful curtsy and she couldn't help feeling a brief flash of sympathy for the man. He obviously felt a bit awkward. "Good evening to you Don Grijalva. The library will be fine. And I must say, I'm most anxious to hear your tale." She walked over to stand before him and waited to be offered an arm.

Don Estevan appropriately profered an arm and escorted Melisandre to the library. Once outside of the room Melisandre was shocked, for the interior furnishings of the building were in no manner as opulent as those of the room she had been in. Furniture was rather sparce, and the walls were roughly plastered. There were traces of opulence here and there - a fine end table, an expensive mirror, but on the whole the building looked rather crudely and inexpensively put together. It was also much smaller than she would normally expect a Don's abode to be.

Upon entering the library, she got a second shock, for although the furnishings were crude the library appeared to be extensive (by the standards of a private library, of course) and many of the books appeared to be both old and valuable. There were some comfortable chairs, a reading table with lamps, and a tray with a crystal sherry decanter and two glasses (though there was no sherry in the decanter.

Don Estevan motioned to the chairs, indicating that Melisandre should take her pick, but for the moment remained standing. Once Melisandre was seated, he said: "Now that we are comfortable, I am fully prepared to go into painfully complete and tedious detail as to who we are, why you are here, what we intend to do with you, and all matter of information which may - or may not - be of any interest to you whatsoever. However, it would please me greatly if I could set you at ease for this conversation, so if there are any questions you have that must be answered before all else, I would be grateful if you would ask them now so that you will be relaxed for what is to come."

"You are gracious, Don Estevan, and I appreciate you giving me the chance to ask on the matters most pressing to me." Her fingers crept unconsciously to her pendant, belying her outwardly calm manner. "My companions. Are they here? Are they safe?"

Don Estevan shook his head. "They are not here. We took only you. However I have no doubt that if we wait long enough they will arrive to rescue you, which is all the more reason to explain things to you as quickly as possible - if nothing else I would prefer not to face Señor Ferdinand in a swordfight. I do not know their present whereabouts, save that they have left the Selva des Fendes for the moment. No doubt you know of their destination, so you would know more of their potential safety than I. Given that they have, so I hear, defeated such renowned personages as Reis and Khereid-Din, contributed to the defense of La Ultima Muralla, and assisted in stopping a war in Eisen, I believe that I can say with a fair degree of assurance that I would worry more about the safety of those who stand in their way than that of your companions."

Melisandre tried hard to suppress the laugh that was conjured from the vision he created of her companions to no avail. It bubbled forth, the merry sound rather incongruous in such surroundings. True, they were in Montaigne, but from what Don Estevan said, there'd been no altercation and her friends were quite... resourceful. She smoothed her skirt, a slight smile still lingering. "Yes, well, that answered I suppose I shall wait for the explanation as to why I am here. It seems that I'm in no immediate danger and I'm greatly interested in your story."

"Very well. To spare you a long and tedious history lesson should that prove unnecessary, may I ask what you know of the history of the Grijalva family?"

Melisandre flushed slightly. She'd always been a poor student when it came to history. She always got names wrong, or confused or backwards. "Well, I do know that your family often acts as guides through the Selva de Fendes and I remember seeing your name on the genealogy charts when we were...." She swore silently to herself, she'd almost told him of their mission. "...when we were studying the Sandoval line in school." A lame finish, but hopefully he was preoccupied enough to miss her slight stumble.

Don Estevan nodded. "Yes, we are guides now, and foresters. But it was not always so. Once we were among the major nobility, along with the Soldano, the Aldana, and of course the Ochoa." He shrugged slightly. "So we are not the only ones who have fallen, and others have, indeed, fallen further than we have. Nonetheless our fall was hard, and all the harder for being unjustified.

"It began in 1620, when Doña Beatrice Ontivares de Grijalva was accused by the Inquisition of heresy Beatrice was heavy with child at the time, and died in childbirth before her name could be properly cleared. Worse, the child she gave birth to, Cornilio Ontivares de Grijalva, was born deformed, small and wizened, with a malformed arm. The Inquisition was quick to pounce upon this unfortunate occurance as 'proof' of Doña Beatrice's guilt in the eyes of Theus. While nothing was ever proven, the Inquisition proved powerful enough, and the rumor strong enough to destroy us politically. Our lands were stripped of us for one reason or another, and we were impoverished. Eventually the only lands left to us were the Selva de Fendes, which nobody wanted. We relocated here, and have held the territory ever since.

"That, most likely, is the history that you know and were too polite to recite - that we are heretics, demon lovers in league with Legion, that we live in the Selva des Fendes because we have come to an understanding with Legion's minions. That we are not to be trusted. It is kind of you to refrain from mentioning these matters, but I fear they must be discussed, for an understanding of our past is essential in order to understand why we have brought you here in such haste, and under such unfortunate conditions.

"What you do not know, for none but a very few do, is the real reason that the Grijalva were stripped of their power, exiled, banished to obscurity in the Selva des Fendes. On this matter I ask your indulgence, for there is only so much I can tell you without needlessly endangering your life. But I can say this - it was never the intention of the Church or our enemies that we be banished. It was their intent that we be destroyed, root and branch, and since the moment we have stepped down from power and into the shadows the Grijalva have fought a war for our very survival against those who would eradicate us utterly.

"Before I continue - if you would indulge me in a small digression, might I ask what you know of your own childhood and parentage?"

Melisandre hesitated. She always depended on her instinct when it came to trusting others and she sensed no malice in this man. He was being so honest with her, what could it possibly hurt to indulge him? He had shared the difficult story of his own family and thanks to her travels with Don Aldana, she had friends that were well connected... She took a deep breath.

"My father is Don Tobias Senalda de Ramirez, but he was not always known as such. He was born a common sailor and had the misfortune to fall in love with a noble woman." Her voice took on a tone of recitation, as if the tale had been often repeated. "Theus smiled upon him and she returned his love, fleeing from her family to live upon the sea, vowing to never speak to them again as they did not bless the union with Papa. Their time together was very short and Maman died giving birth to me. She made him promise her to not raise their child on the sea and raise her to be a proper lady." A wry smile flickered across her face. "Although Papa's definition of proper... Anyway, he'd done well for himself with his commission and used the money he'd saved to purchase a title and some lands to honor her wish. Papa didn't speak of her much as it's too painful for him, although he did tell me the pendant I wear was hers. I never take it off." She caught the chain and held it out for him to see before letting it drop back.

"Papa sent me to the finest schools to make sure I was well educated because mother would have wished it. Once in school, I learned to be a physician and I spent time serving at El Moralo al Ultimo during the Montaigne war. That's where this pin comes from." She indicated an ugly little pin that she wore on her waist, crudely cast. "The men there gave it to me in thanks for saving their lives and so I wear it to honor their bravery in defending our lands. It's fashioned from the bullets I dug from their bodies, so it's not pretty, but it means a great deal to me. That's where I met Don Aldana and his companions and since then I've been traveling with his party as his personal physician and there's not much more to it than that." She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I've led rather a quiet life up until the last year or so, so I hope you don't find my tale too dull."

Don Estevan listened attentively to Melisandre's tale then allowed the silence to linger for a moment as she finished.

"We have struggled with this problem for some time, ever since... How to tell you unpleasant truths? We who are known to be heretics and liars cannot easily convince others that we speak truth. And the situation is made so much worse by your current circumstances - how can you possibly trust those who have abducted you in the dead of night, spirited you away from your companions to an unknown location for unknown purposes, people who are strangers to you?

"In the end, I concluded that it would be best not to attempt to convince you, but merely to place you in circumstances which, while not precisely pleasant, would not be sufficiently brutish and horrid to prevent you from at least hearing what I have to say with a somewhat open mind. Certainly you cannot help but be prejudiced against me - how could you not be? - but perhaps not yet so prejudiced that you are beyond listening.

"I have several shocking things to tell you, all in quick succession. Again, we have discussed at length the manner in which these revelations might be presented to you soas not to further prejudice you against us, but in truth there is no easy way, whatever father may say, and I percieve that rather than first setting you at ease and then, at leisure, answering your questions and presenting our case I would be better advised to present our case and answer your questions and thereby, hopefully, set you at ease. While this approach has the major drawback that I may overwhelm you and thus bias your opinion on matters that we value, it does, admittedly have the crucial benefit of allowing me to present our case to you before either a) you escape, or b) our front door is kicked in and I am forced to attempt to explain our activities while Don Aldana holds a sword at my throat." He paused for a moment to rub the aforementiond body part. "On the whole then it seems to me to be the better of two not particularly admirable courses of action, and thus the one which I shall pursue."

He pulled a large and ornate book down from one of the shelves. Its cover was tooled leather inset with some sort of crest that Melisandre did not recognize. He placed it on a table but did not immediately open it.
 

"Here are the unpleasant facts in brief," he said. To his credit he looked Melisandre directly in the eye with no fidgeting as he spoke. "Don Tobias Senalda de Ramirez is not your father. Melisandre de Ramirez is not your birth given name. You are the Grijalva's best hope of salvation in this generation and, with us, have the ability to bring down the Inquisition and free all of Thea from its yoke forever. You are the heir to the throne of Castille." Into the shocked silence that followed, he asked, again with a somewhat fleeting smile, "Do you have questions?"

Melisandre sat in stunned silence her mind trying to process the incredible information that she had just received. Heir to the throne? She felt dizzy and noticed in a rather detached way that the furniture seemed to be slowly retreating. The professional side of her thoughts realized it was the onset of a fainting spell but she had to ask questions, she couldn't, no, wouldn't lose consciousness. She bit down sharply on her tongue drawing blood. The pain helped her focus and she took a shaky breath.

Questions clamored in her mind. Was this true? Surely Papa would not have lied to her. But what about his many evasions when she brought up the subject of family? No pictures of a wife he professed to love, no trinkets, no posessions. Doubts began to swirl, the offhand comments made by Uncle Tibold, odd conversations that she'd overheard, Papa's insistence upon seclusion. The more she thought about it....

"No. That can't be true. Papa would never..." She stood up and began to pace, her aggitation not allowing her to remain seated. "Questions? If it is true, there's so many... but if it's not..." She paused and forced herself to sort the questions. Depending on the answers, she might not need to ask some of them. She spun to face Don Estevan, expression composed, chin held high. "Very well, what proof do you offer me Don Grijalva, that what you tell me is true?"

Don Estevan opened the book, which proved to be a rather extensive geneology of the Grijalva familia. "This," he said, tapping a name, "is Albino Ontivares de Grijalva, the firstborn son of Beatriz and Domingo Grijalva. Trace his lineage back, through Beatrice, and you will discover that his grandfather was Modesto Ontivares and his grandmother was Soledad Sandoval, firstborn child of Tito Sandoval, who was then king of Castille. Because he decended from the female line, not the male, he was not considered as a primary heir, and the throne passed down through Soledad's brother Evaristo.

"Albino Ontivares de Grijalva was only seven when we were driven into the Selva des Fendes. Those years were difficult for our family, and because of this he married late to Loyda Yanez, in 1645. In 1647 Loyda gave birth to identical twin girls, Sarah and and Sofia. Because it was impossible for the midwife to tell the two children apart, and because the child figured into the Sandoval succession, the midwife cut the right foot of the secondborn in order to differentiate the two.

"Once the twins were strong enough to travel Loyda had a desire to show them to her family. She and Albino travelled down the Trade to Barcino and took ship to visit her parents. But unknown to us there was a traitor in our midst, who sold the information on their travels to our enemies. It was arranged that their ship should sink, and so it was. A dishonest man was bribed to pilot the ship onto the rocky coast and both Albino and Loyda perished. But a nursemaid managed to make it to shore with one of the children. She sent word to us, but was set upon by brigands before we could reach her. We thought both children lost to us for many years.

"It was actually you who we found first, though we did not know it at the time. One of my cousins, Miguel, served at El Moro and was wounded. I doubt that you remember him, one soldier among so many, but he remembered you, though at the time you struck him as no more than a dedicated surgeon to whom he owed his life, albeit an unusually pretty one.

"Our family would not have survived had it not cultivated... alternative methods of learning the activities of our enemies. Put baldly, we from time to time employ spies and even criminal contacts to safeguard us and learn what we can. So some months later when Miguel, making contact with some of these less than savory elements, came face to face with the same surgeon who had saved him in El Moro!

"The existence of twin girls of about the right age was, to say the least, intriguing, and we began an investigation. With our contacts it was easy to trace the background of the one,and we eventually were able to find a survivor of the bandits who sold her, but you proved much more elusive. By that time you had become a companion of Don Aldana, and were moving in circles that we could not easily penetrate. We thought of approaching your sister, but her background and criminal activities made us hesitate. She had no reason to love us, and a betrayal could hurt us badly. Fortunately for us your newly found notoriety worked in our favor, though not in yours, for your sister discovered your existance and set about to pursue you. This made things much easier for us, for we did not have to follow you, we merely had to follow her.

"Matters might have gone on like this for years - we did not want to move too quickly and risk discovery - but we had a lucky break and discovered, in the investigation of your sister, an individual who had actually been part of the original attack on your ship and the death of your parents. It is his testimony that I will offer you as proof of the veracity of my statements. He was quite clear that you had no scars on your foot, which indicated to us that if you were either of the missing sisters you must be Sarah Yanez de Grijalva. The woman you know as Sarina would, of course, be Sofia Yanez de Grijalva."

Melisandre stepped to his side and traced the names in the book with trembling fingers. So much of what he said fit. The woman in La Reina del Mar, the lack of family history, the lack of resemblance to her 'father'. And the nightmares when she traveled by sea of drowning and being thrown about by the merciless ocean. Not a nightmare at all but a memory?

"Sarah Yanez de Grijalva. Sofia." A whisper of memory. A woman calling 'Sarah! Sarah!', hot sand, smell of ocean. Her eyes sought those of Don Estevan, searching for a family resemblance in his features. In her heart she believed him, but if it were true... gain and loss. She swallowed hard, reminding herself that Papa had always said a partial truth was more believable than a lie. She'd always wanted family and she couldn't allow someone to play on that innermost desire. She had to know without a shadow of a doubt. Her voice took on the no-nonsence tone she took with difficult patients. "This man, he is here? I want to see him. Now, if you please. I'm curious how he would know whether or not I have a scar."

"Very well," said Don Estevan, "I shall bring him. It will take a few moments, though he has doubtless been prepared while we have been speaking." He walked to the door.

"Jacinda, please attend to Her Majesty's needs while I am about." Jacinda swept into the room to do just that, and Don Estevan turned and went down to one knee.

"Your Majesty, I shall return shortly." With that he turned and strode out of the room.

Melisandre felt the color rising to her cheeks. Your Majesty? Pushing that thought to the side to deal with at a later time, she glanced at Jacinda. "So if what your brother tells me is true, you are my cousin?" She turned her attention back to the book. Don Tobias had no such book. So many names it almost made her head reel and there the one that was possibly hers. Sarah. And next to hers, Sofia. Above that Loyda Yanez.

Her fingers tapped the book lightly. "Loyda Yanez. What do you know of her and her family?"

"Yes Y... Your Majesty. I am related to you through your grandfather - my grandfather was one of his brothers. So we are cousins but I am not in the line of succession. I know little of Loyda Yanez or her family. She died before I was born. Since I have not yet come out I have had little contact with other families as of yet."

"Please, don't call me Your Majesty. Call me Mel.." She paused. "Just... just please don't call me that." She glanced at the empty decanter. "Perhaps we could have some refreshments while we wait? I often find that a sip of wine or brandy does wonders for the nerves. Today has been quite...unexpected." With that she sank down once more upon the chair wondering who this man who claimed to have intimate knowledge of her feet would be. Suddenly remembering she had no idea of the date, she looked up. "What day is it today? How long have I been here?"

"Today is the fifth of Julius, Your Ma.... You have been here for about a day. I don't know how long ago you were... ah, captured." Jacinda stammered a bit, clearly flustered. All this "Majesty" vs. "no Majesty" thing was driving her crazy.

"Four days." Her companions would still be on their way to the Paix Embassy to seek introductions to Pascal's parents. "Are we still in the Selva des Fendes? Or are we north of there?"

"I... I am instructed not to say at the moment Your Majesty. Don Estevan or my father will be happy to answer your questions. Please forgive me."

Melisandre had to laugh at that. "No doubt they think I would use such information to plot an escape of some sort but I assure you I have no intention of leaving yet. True, I don't wish my companions to worry, but I've spent a lifetime wondering of my mother and her family. My family. I need to know. I want to know. The possibility of being so close to the answers I've been searching for... Well, had your father merely requested an audience, I would have granted it."

"But I can see I'm making you uncomfortable and that is not my intent. Please, sit. What topics would you find appealing? I can tell you of my companions and the parties we've attended or I can tell you of the battles we have fought." She grinned. "Or I can tell you how I escaped General Du Toille and managed to help the soldiers defending El Morro."

"Whatever pleases you," Jacinda responded demurely.

"Then I shall tell you of my companions since you will meet them at some point I'm sure. First is Don Lucas de Aldana scion of the Aldana family. He's handsome, dresses well, is an accomplished swordsman and a terrible flirt. Do be careful if you catch his eye. He can be persistent." She leaned back. "Then there is Constanza de Orduño. She's been my best friend since college and is one of the cleverest people I know. And also one of the kindest. She was prophesied to destroy the pirate Reis and she did so with determination and fortitude. She doesn't have much of an inclination to dress properly at all so most likely she will show up wearing trousers with pistols tucked in the waistband. Don't let her frighten you." She chuckled at the thought of Constanza bursting through the door, pistols drawn.

"Then there is Ferdinand, now known as 'Beggar John'. He's a confusing mix and I'd not like to be on the opposite side of a fight with him. He's deadly with a sword and I've seen him take out six soldiers in a matter of seconds. He has more scars than I care to count but always manages to emerge from fights with his skin intact. He has a tendancey to be a bit gruff and hide his better qualities. Like an unpolished stone. And lastly there is Sebastiano Biancastro." Melisandre's voice softened slightly. "He used to serve Prince Villanova as a member of the Prince's Hand, but he renounced his position and helped us rescue Don Aldana's mother. As he can no longer call Vodacce home, he's been traveling with us as bodyguard and protector while his mother is a guest at the de Ordunyo estate. He and Lucas are at odds but it hasn't come down to out and out blows as of yet and I pray to Theus it does not. I couldn't bear it if either of them were to be seriously hurt."

The sound of footsteps and the rattle of chains punctuated the end of Melisandre's speech. Moments later the door opened and Don Estevan, now wearing a sword, escorted a heavily shackled Tibold Dedrick into the room.

Tibold did not look to be in particularly bad shape, but he did appear to have been kept locked up for awhile. He didn't smell particularly good, his clothes were stained, and his normally stylish facial hair was ukempt. He was also wet - it appeared that someone has recently dumped a large quantity of water over him, and he dripped onto the floor.

"Hello Meli," he said with his customary joviality, "You seem to have come up in the world."
 

With a gasp, Melisandre sprung from her chair and dashed to his side. "Uncle Tibold!" Her eyes scanned for the signs that as a physician, she knew all to well. Satisfied for the moment that he was unharmed, although ill used, she rounded on Don Estevan, outraged in every line of her body. "I hope your explanation is sufficient to justify the way you are treating my Uncle."

"Your Majesty," replied Don Estevan, "he is not your uncle. He is the murderer of your parents. It was Tibold Dedrick who piloted your parent's vessel onto the rocks."

Melisandre took a step back as cold icy horror crept along her spine. "No, that's not true." She turned back to the man she'd known so long. The man who'd made her dolls and told her stories. "Please... tell me it's not true." The anguish in her soul was plain on her face for all to read. "It's a lie. It must be a lie. Tell them... please."

Tibold turned once more to look at Don Estevan. "I warned you that she would not believe your tale," he said, smiling.

"Yes, you did," replied Don Estevan calmly, "And I warned you what would happen if she did not."

Tibold's smile slipped a bit, and he glanced back at Melisandre.

Melisandre reached within herself seeking strength to draw upon. The knowledge of her friends comforted her. No matter what the outcome, she'd tell them and ask their council. They'd been in many difficult situations together and they would help. Melisandre or Sarah. It didn't matter. Her chin lifted, defiant. "You knew my father before I was even born. Who is my mother? Name her. Name her family."

Tibold smiled. "Certainly, Meli, if that is you wish. You must understand that your father was rather hesitant to..."

Behind him Don Estevan cleared his throat quietly. Tibold stopped dead in the middle of his statement and turned to look at Don Estevan. There was a bit of wildness in his eyes, a hint of fear, a bit of panic, that Melisandre had never seen before. Don Estevan, in contrast, waited calmly, his expression bland.

Tibold's eyes darted about, like a caged animal seeking escape but finding none. "Please..." he whispered, facing Don Estevan. "Please...."

Melisandre frowned slightly glancing between the two men. She thought of the man that she'd known and loved as her father. His laughing eyes and easy smile, the slightly rolling gait he had from years at sea. She turned to Tibold, her manner calm yet firm. "He promised to tell me of my mother when I was old enough, Tibold." Realization began to dawn. "...But he's afraid, isn't he. Afraid of what I'll think of him, afraid of how I'll react. Tobias has loved me as his daughter and raised me as if I were his own and even were he not my father by blood, I can't fault his behavior toward me. He's generous and loving and provided me the best education, the best teachers, the best clothing. Anything I desired, it was mine for the asking. I can only think that he acted out of love for me and no matter the truth, I will still love him as the father he tried to be." If he'd known the Grijalva had such dangerous enemies, it was even possible he was trying to protect her. A warm feeling was generated by this thought and for the first time in several hours she was starting to feel like herself.

As Tibold seemed to be considering what she'd said, she quietly added, "I gave you your life and freedom in Freiburg when Constanza wanted to pursue you and I stopped her. I think you owe me the truth of my parentage. The entire truth."

Tibold regarded Melisadre for a moment and a shadow of - something - passed over his features. Then he was once again his jovial, friendly self.

"Are you familiar with the ways of piracy, Meli? Did your friend Constanza ever tell you of them? It isn't as simple as most people think. There are various methods and means. Doubtless Doña Constanza made great distinction between those such as herself with a Letter of Marque from the crown, and such individuals as prey on anyone who they can catch. There are pirates, privateers, buccaneers, and a whole host of creatures that are sometimes one and sometimes another. This is not even to speak of individuals who embezzle from the ship's finances, those who ship false cargoes, those who doctor their manifests, those who carry illegal or proscribed cargoes. There are as many types of illegal activity on the sea as there are on land - perhaps more. But one activity stands out from the rest in terms of the amount of money you can make at it. And not incidentally the amount of hatred that it inspires in others. You are thinking that it is trading in human cargo, no doubt, but you are wrong. There are plenty of men and women on the high seas who have no problem with that particular form of commerce. More universally hated, and more lucrative by far, is breaking.

"Do you know the term? Put simply it is purchasing and insuring a ship, driving it onto the rocks along with its cargo, stripping it of everything valuable, taking those you trust off and leaving the rest to the sea, and then using the insurance to purchase another ship." Tibold chuckles. "Don't look so surprised - it is a common enough method for merchants of few scruples to dispose of older ships, I assure you. There are captains who specialize in that sort of work in fact, though they change their identities frequently. Your 'father' was such a man. I worked for him for many years.

"Your host here insists that we were paid to sink the vessel upon which you, your sister, and your parents had booked passage, and assure that they did not survive. He is right in fact, but wrong in intent. Your parents died because they were on the wrong ship at the wrong time, no more." He turns to face Don Estevan. "Tell me, is it better or worse for you to know that they died due to bad luck rather than some devious plan on the part of some shadowy attacker? The ship was a cargo vessel, they booked passage at the last minute. That was all there was to it. They were not among those in the crew who were to be trusted, so they had to die. They went into the sea with the rest."

He turned back to Melisandre, still with the charming expression on his face, despite the horror of what he was saying. "Name your parents? I cannot. If I knew their names I have long since forgotten them, Your 'father' sailed the ship onto the rocks. Your 'father' and I, along with those loyal to us, threw them into the sea where they perished, either drowned or dashed against the rocks."

Tibold's expression hadn't changed a jot. He could be as easily have been talking about the weather or the price of wine in Freiburg.

Melisandre's eyes grew cold. Stiffly she turned to Don Estevan. "It seems I must beg your pardon, Don Grijalva. I've inadvertently done you an injustice and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I would very much like to stay here as your guest and learn of my family. May I somehow send word to my companions that I am safe?" A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "I'd not like to explain things at swordpoint when they return to Castille."

"Also, I'd like some time alone to think upon what I've learned so unexpectedly. If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow the lineage book and retire to my room. There's no need to lock me in, I give you my word that I shan't leave the premises without your permission." A slight pause. "If you'll trust the word of a woman raised by pirates."

"Of course, Your Majesty," replied Don Estevan. "My father would like to meet you for breakfast tomorrow morning. I will have a messenger sent to your companions, though our resources are somewhat limited at the moment. You have free use of the house. Were you someone else I would urge you not to leave the premises, as the forest outside is untamed. However, I have no doubt that you could make your way out of even the Selva des Fendes successfully were you to set your mind to it, so I regret that I can only offer to tempt you by telling you that our cook is quite good." He turned to Jacinda, "Please see to Her Majesty's needs." Back to Melisandre, he bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, I wish you a good night." He took Tibold by the arm. "Come along." Tibold followed quietly.

Suffering a pang of conscience, Melisandre said to the retreating Don, "Wait. You may think me foolish, and you are most likely correct, but I cannot condone... I know he was in part responsible for the death of my parents but...." She paused, knowing she would probably regret this, but nonetheless, "I ask that you release Tibold with the provisio that he leave Castille never to return. If he does come back, then you may take whatever action you see fit."

She gazed sadly at Tibold and add, "And I shall pray to Theus to forgive you, for you have wrought a great wrong on this family, however unwittingly."

Don Estevan turned and bowed again. "If that is your wish, Your Majesty, then I will certainly obey. However, if I might be so bold - you have had many shocks this evening. It may be possible that you will want to speak to the prisoner again. Were we to release him it might become difficult for any questions you may have to be answered. I would recommend that we not release him just yet."

"Please, if you could call me Sarah. I... I need to get used to it I suppose. And it has been a difficult day so I will accede to your judgement in this matter." She picked up the book from the table, noting the strange embossing on the cover. "This crest, it is our family crest? I've never seen it before."

Don Estevan was clearly not particularly comfortable with the idea of referring to the ruler of Castille by her first name, so after a moment he decided to sidestep the issue for the time being. "Yes, that is the Grijalva family crest. Of course, if you ascend the throne you will take on the Sandoval family crest in its stead."

Melisandre/Sarah smiled graciously. "Yes, of course." Privately she was thinking that, Theus help her, she had no desire to rule a country! But her host had been very kind under the circumstances and she'd no wish to be rude. "And if you could inform your father that I would be delighted to join him tomorrow, I would be most appreciative."

With a graceful curtsey, she waited until Don Estevan had left with Tibold. Turning to Jacinda she asked, "Would it be too much trouble to request a bath drawn? It would make me feel a bit more myself, I dare say."

"Certainly Your Majesty," replied Jacinda. "If you will follow me please?"

With a slight sigh, Meli nodded. Getting them to stop referring to her as 'Your Majesty' would be difficult. "Please, lead the way."
 

Melisandre took her time in the bath, allowing the warm water to relax her while she went over the events of the morning.

Heir to the throne of Castille.

Daughter of Albino and Loydna de Grijalva.

A twin sister named Sofia, known now as Sarina.

Don Lucas and Doña Constanza, seeking a legitimate heir, would they help her or try to put her on the throne?

The fact that the Grijalva family was discredited, but how? She was promised only part of the story. How could knowing the entire story put her in danger?

Wishing Constanza were here to discuss matters and advise her.

Sebastiano. If they tried to put her on the throne... He'd given up his position for her. Could she do any less?

Wishing the rightful King could be found alive and well, saved somehow by fate. Maybe Mad Queen Morella? Dangerous, but she'd already accepted help once, how bad could it get? Could Morella alter past events as well as future?

As the bathwater cooled, she got out, dried and dressed. All the travel had made her more than capable of caring for herself without servants hovering. With a pensive look, still mulling over the confusing tangle of information she'd heard, she returned to her room and after checking to ensure that she was alone, she seated herself in front of the mirror.

She spoke softly aloud in a strange language and waited for the mirror to cloud and the Oracle to appear. True, she wasn't quite human, but she might at least shed some light on the current events and perhaps offer some advice on the course ahead.

The oracle appeared, looking calmly out of the reflection. Waiting.

In a very respectful tone Melisandre said, "My Lady, please forgive me for disturbing you. Today I've been told that my entire life has been nothing more than a cleverly crafted lie and I turn to you for guidance. You know the past and see glimpses of the future and I need to know if what I've been told is true. Am I really Sarah de Grijalva and one of the heirs to the throne of Castille?"

"Lives are not lies - you are who you are, regardless of what you are named. What you have been told is true, but not the sum of truth. You are Sarah de Grijalva, and you are fated to destroy Esteban Verdugo and the Inquisition."

"I cannot say that is a bad thing. The Inquisition has many people living in fear, widows weep for husbands lost and children cry for missing parents. But the path I am to walk seems difficult and frightening and I'm not sure I can do it. I would ask your counsel if you would give it." The calmly serene face of the Oracle was a comfort at least, even if her words had eliminated any hope that this had all been a horrible misunderstanding.

The Oracle replied, "Deliverance - If there is no longer anything where one has to go, return brings good fortune. If there is still something where one has to go, hastening brings good fortune. The superior one pardons mistakes and forgives misdeeds. You are without blame. Perseverance brings good fortune. Perseverance leads to humiliation. Deliver yourself from your great foe. Then the companion comes, and him you can trust. The princess shoots at a hawk on a high wall. She kills it. Everything serves to further."

"Thank you Lady. I will consider your words and walk the path that fate has decreed for me as best I might." She bowed her head and waited to be dismissed. The image faded.

Sarah, for she was in fact Sarah, picked up the lineage book and began to read her family history. Things she should have learned growing up knowing the people the book spoke of. As she grew tired, she set it aside and prepared herself for bed.

She had never been overly religious, although she attended mass regularly and dutifully said her prayers, but tonight she knelt at her bedside and prayed to Theus to give her strength for the days ahead. She prayed that her companions would remain safe and return to her in good health as they had no physician to tend to them. She prayed that her parents had not suffered too much as they crossed from this world and that that Theus kept them. And finally she prayed that her true family would not establish a gap between her and the man she cared for.

The bed was soft and welcoming as she climbed beneath the covers and she drifted off to dream of parents she never knew.

* * *

She woke early the next morning and decided to dress in garb appropriate to have breakfast with her uncle. Almost the instant that she began to move around the room there was a knock on the doork. "Your Majesty? It's Doña Jacinda. May I assist you?"

Not wishing to be rude and giving up on the reminder to not call her 'Your Majesty', Sarah replied, "Certainly, cousin. It's nice to have company." There was a dim glimmer of hope that if she was less formal Jacinda would start to call her 'cousin' or 'Sarah'. Both of which sounded strange but better than the alternative.

Sarah smiled. "You did such a wonderful job with my hair yesterday, I'd appreciate your assistance. When you travel so much, having one's hair done becomes a luxury."

Once she was dressed and seated in front of Jacinda having her hair done, she asked, "Since it seems that we are family, can you tell me what you know of our family? I fear I'm woefully ignorant on the matter, even after reading as much as I could last eve. Are there many of our family left? Do they all live in this area?"

"Many of our female relatives still live outside the Selva des Fendes, as they were married off before our fall, but the children no longer carry the Grijalva name. Most of the ones that do now reside for safety in the Selva des Fendes. We travel abroad on occasion, and during the war many Grijalvas fought against the Montaigne, but mostly we reside in or around the forest."

Sarah frowned. "Is it so dangerous for you to travel outside the forest? Your brother mentioned your family had enemies that were trying to eliminate the family line. Is that why you remain here?"

"Yes. Now that we are not widely known anymore, it is a bit safer for us to travel, and we must travel on business from time to time, but there are still those who would see us dead. The Inquisition pursues us whenever it can catch us." Jacinda pauses, as if unsure whether to say more. "Was the Knight Inquisitor Paolo you mentioned a friend?"

This caused Sarah to laugh. "No, not really. Don Aldana is not overly fond of the Inquisition, but he was forced to include the Knight Inquisitor on our trip to Montaigne at Cardinal Verdugo's insistance. For our protection." She shook her head. "Protection indeed. He was along to keep an eye on us and report to the Cardinal, I'm sure."

Jacinda nodded and continued doing hair.

"So might I ask if our family had anything to do with the disappearance of the Knight Inquisitor's troops? And the first night I stayed in the forest I dreamed of the Fleishwolf. Does he reside there?"

"If they were Inquisition troops I have no doubt that there were Grijalva hunting them the entire time they were within the Selva. As for whether we got them all - I really do not know. There are other dangers in the Selva des Fendes than us, and despite what people say they are very real. I have never heard of a fleishwolf though - it sounds Eisen."

"It is indeed Eisen. I'm not sure exactly what he is but he appears as an older man and carves your likeness out of wood. When he's finished your soul is trapped inside it. I've only seen the Fleishwolf two times and I'd not care to repeat the experience anytime soon." Sarah shivered slightly, remembering that evil-looking smile. Not wishing to think upon it further, she changed the subject. "How many Grijalva live here? Will they all be at breakfast? I'd like to meet them."

(To be continued)