by AC Cobble
A week before, he’d decided that because Anne had not needed to heal the nobleman, there was a chance to ditch the man, but day after day, he could not find the opportunity. Fredrick did nothing but complain, so he was always ready to leave in the mornings. While they were cleaning the pots and dishes from breakfast, the nobleman was waiting and grouching. In the evenings, he sat glumly near the campfire, and the bulk of their party was never out of his sight. Whether or not it was intentional, it was certainly inconvenient if they were going to try and slip away.
So it was, one day from Carff, Lord Fredrick, the mercenaries, and Ambrose were still with them. The afternoon sun was high overhead, and its light was broken into shards by the thin tree trunks that rose around the highway. A damp, wet wind was blowing north, coming off the sea south of Carff, and it filled the forest with the smell of salt and open water, a pleasant change if they’d had time to appreciate it.
There was a small village ahead that Rew recalled from previous journeys to and from the capital of the Eastern Province, and it was situated exactly one day’s walk from the city. It was a place to gather oneself before plunging into the madness of the big city or a place to ease into the quiet when one left. It had a number of quality inns, and it would be their last chance to plan the arrival into Carff. Rew, still tormented with what to do once they were brought in front of Prince Valchon, needed that time to discuss the options with Anne and the children. He couldn’t ignore the fact that anything he did would involve them as well.
When they arrived at the village, Rew suggested they stop, and no one argued. There was a comfortable tavern at the edge of the village which wasn’t as fine as where Lord Fredrick wanted to stay and wasn’t as raucous as where Borace wanted to stay, but Rew made the choice and ignored their objections. Lord Fredrick had glared at him until Rew asked the man if he was afraid to venture out on his own, just a day from Carff. The nobleman had puffed up like a pastry from the oven.
“Afraid?” sniffed the nobleman. “Of course not. In fact, I don’t plan to stop at all. I only suggested it as a courtesy to the women and the children. I will continue on to Carff and find my bed there.”
“You won’t find it before midnight,” remarked Rew then quickly bit his tongue, cursing himself for offering the man a reason to stay with them.
“Perhaps, but without the rest of you to slow me, I think I shall make good time.” Fredrick glanced over the party, his gaze lingering on Raif and Cinda. He turned on his heel. Over his shoulder, he declared, “Tomorrow morning, I shall be conferencing with the prince.”
“I should have tried that sooner,” muttered Rew, watching Lord Fredrick stride down the street and then out of the village toward Carff. Rew turned to Ambrose and the mercenaries, hoping they followed in the nobleman’s footsteps, but to his dismay, none of them left. Rew sighed.
Borace laughed a harsh chuckle. “Ranger, I have a powerful urge to be paid for our time, but I don’t fancy walking in to see the prince on my own, and I don’t reckon Prince Valchon has any interest in speaking with a fool like Fredrick. I think it best we stay together until our business is done. You’re the King’s Ranger, eh. You’re the one who can get us an audience, and as soon as you do and we’re paid, you’ll be done with us.”
Grumbling, Rew admitted to himself the man had a point. Even with deadly tidings, a mercenary like Borace had very little chance of actually getting to see the prince in person, and without that, Borace stood very little chance of getting paid the rest of his share by the prince’s staff or by Appleby once it was all over.
“At least that dour-faced nobleman is gone,” said the nameless woman with a wink.
“I’ll raise a tankard to that,” boomed Borace. He leaned toward the woman. “How about we raise a tankard together?”
The woman rolled her eyes.
“Your new friends are going to leave us in a few days, woman. You won’t have a choice then.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not when it’s just the two of us, there won’t be.”
“Enough of that,” snapped Anne, stepping between them.
Barking over Anne’s shoulder to the nameless woman, Borace warned, “Just one more day of the empath protecting you, then it’s you and me.”
The nameless woman strode toward the inn without responding, Borace following quickly on her heels. Shaking his head, Rew went after the big man, the others dragging their feet behind him.
The place he’d chosen served hearty fish stews, fresh baked bread, and cold ale, and so close to Carff, the wine was a far better terroir than anywhere near Eastwatch. Anne, not exactly pleased but satisfied with the cleanliness of the place, perked up when she took her first sip. Rew settled in, contented. If Anne were to order a second mug of wine, he would have free rein for as many ales as he wanted, and he wanted a lot. The tavern was warm but not hot. It was filled with the murmur of conversation but not unpleasantly loud. With so many days on the road together, everyone appreciated hearing some other voices for a change.
Rew sipped his ale and ate his fish stew quietly, waiting for the right opportunity to discuss his plans with Anne and the children. Ambrose knew who Raif and Cinda were, but Borace and the nameless woman did not. Rew counted himself lucky their identities hadn’t been given away on the road, and he didn’t want to spoil that now. Besides, while Ambrose knew who they were, he didn’t know why the party had been headed to Carff in the first place. He’d inquired in his slithering, roundabout away, but Rew had held him off with claims they merely wanted to fulfill their duties to Baron Appleby. He doubted Ambrose believed it, but as a cover story it had the advantage of a kernel of truth. Whatever happened after, Rew had decided they needed to inform Prince Valchon of what was occurring outside Stanton. The people there deserved his help.
Once they’d finished their meals, Borace and the nameless woman began a game of throwing knives at a target on the wall. The woman was far more skilled, and she seemed to take great pleasure in taunting the berserker with that fact, but Borace laughed it off and claimed it was because he hadn’t loosened up yet. They were like two feral dogs who couldn’t help snapping at each other, but wouldn’t stay away from each other, either.
As they played, Rew saw that, unsurprisingly, the big man had a prodigious thirst for ale that eclipsed even the ranger’s. Rew watched as the giant berserker downed a pitcher and kept challenging the woman to larger and larger wagers.
Her knives thunked into the wooden board they were aiming at, and his knives thunked into the board or the wall in the general vicinity of the board. The big man kept laughing, though, and evidently, his pride suffered no wound. Ambrose moved to sit near the game, nursing a pitcher of wine and watching sullenly, as was his wont.
Raif made as to move toward the game of knives as well, but Rew caught his arm. “We need to speak, alone.”
Grunting, the fighter sat.
“I’ve been thinking,” started Rew. “This surge of Dark Kind is certainly the doing of Prince Calb, whereas your father’s capture and imprisonment by Arcanist Salwart and the duke have Prince Heindaw’s boot marks all over it. Your sister fled with Alsayer, who we know was communicating with Dark Kind north of Falvar and was the one who actually took your father. The point being, as far as I can tell, that treacherous spellcaster is in the employ of both Calb and Heindaw.”
“No one will want Alsayer dead more than Prince Valchon,” surmised Cinda.
Rew shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“King’s Sake, why are we here, then?” barked Raif. “If our aim is to find that man and Kallie, then why look in the one place that’s most dangerous for him? He’s a spellcaster. He could portal anywhere.”
“Alsayer and Kallie did come to Carff. I’m certain of that,” said Rew. “You’ll see when we get there. The scent of the place is distinctive. You don’t forget it once it’s been in your nostrils, and I’ve never encountered that smell anywhere else in Vaeldon. They came here. There had to
be a reason, and it could be a strong enough reason they stayed.”
Raif glared at him, unconvinced.
“Where would you have gone instead?” Cinda asked her brother. “The only logical choice was Carff. Perhaps we find them here, perhaps we do not, but we had no other leads to follow so it’s a moot point as far as I’m concerned.”
“Exactly,” said Rew, taking a sip from his ale. “There’s also a possibility that’s been growing on me. What if Alsayer convinced Prince Valchon that he’s on the prince’s side? He’s acted in ways that imply he’s supporting the other princes, but he hasn’t been very successful at it, has he? And if one wants to turncoat and try to work two of the princes against each other, why not complete the picture and add the third? Believe me when I say that fits Alsayer’s profile. I’ve been wondering if he’s truly aligned with any of the princes, and instead, is playing his own game. I think it possible the man did go to see Valchon when he came here, and because Stanton gives us the excuse to see the prince, it’s the perfect place to start our search in the city for your sister.”
“That’s thin reasoning, Rew,” warned Anne. “There’s too much we don’t know.”
“We can twist ourselves into knots all evening,” replied Rew, “but we can’t plan based on what we don’t know.”
Anne frowned at him.
Cinda leaned closer. “I thought you said I should never come in contact with the princes, that it’d be very dangerous for me. What has changed, Ranger? Why not, like in Spinesend, we enter the city and gather intelligence before we make our move? Or, as I thought was your plan, you inform the prince of what is happening in Stanton, and we use the distraction to search for my sister in Carff. There’s no reason all of us need to visit the palace, is there?”
“She has a point, Rew…” mumbled Anne, fiddling with her wine. “We’ve all agreed Valchon needs to know what is happening in his province, but not all of us need to be there to tell him. Why take the risk?”
“Because we’re meant to do this together.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “I’m not saying we part ways. I’m just saying you be the one to enter the palace, and we can begin searching the rest of the city. We set a place and a time to meet up later.”
Rew sipped his ale again and cleared his throat. “I, ah, I’m not sure that’s going to work.”
“You’re planning to kill him, aren’t you?” asked Anne suddenly. “You’re not afraid for Cinda because Valchon will be dead. What about Stanton? What about Kallie Fedgley? If Valchon is dead…”
“I didn’t say I planned to kill him.”
Anne narrowed her eyes.
“Fine,” snapped Rew. He looked around the group. “We’ve all agreed this has to end, and it won’t end while the princes continue their sport. Anne is right. I’ve decided I’m done running, and it’s time to face… to face the princes. We’ll tell Prince Valchon about Stanton, and with luck, he’ll act to save the people there. After he’s finished, I’m hoping I’ll get an opportunity…”
“You think you could kill the man in his own palace?” asked Raif, his eyes wide. “King’s Sake, Ranger, he’s a prince!”
“I might need help,” replied Rew. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know our chances are better together, and I know if it goes sideways we may have to change plans on the run. It puts you all at risk, that is true, but we’ve always known there’d be risk. I think it’s worth it this time.”
“If we sit back, the princes will kill each other, won’t they?” asked Zaine. “Seems to me like the path of least resistance is simply doing nothing, and then if you want to take on the survivor, so be it.”
“They’ll kill each other along with how many others?” retorted Rew. “Stanton will just be the beginning. King’s Sake, not that I harbor a love of nobles, but all of those on the thrones in the Eastern Territory are already dead. That’s a good example of what is to come.”
“Good point,” said Zaine, sitting back and lifting a mug of wine to her lips.
Rew frowned. Where had she gotten wine? Had she stolen it from Ambrose? From Anne?
“We’ve known this was coming,” remarked Cinda, glancing around at the other children, “or at least we suspected it. I know you told me to keep the secret, Ranger, but I could not. We—Raif and Zaine and I—have agreed to see it through. If this is what we must do, this is what we will do.”
“I think it was more like you told Raif and I that we were going to see it through…” corrected Zaine.
Cinda shrugged.
Raif coughed and added, “My sister is right, Ranger. You might be able to sneak through the woods as quiet as a mouse, but you haven’t been very sneaky about your intentions. I heard enough here and there between you and Cinda or you and Anne. If you think bringing Cinda before the prince is worth it… I’ll trust you. We’ll do what we can to help, but don’t think we’ve forgotten our sister. I want to find Kallie.”
Rew grunted. “Alsayer is our only lead to Kallie. Carff is our only lead to him. And who knows more of what’s happening in Carff than Prince Valchon? I understand Kallie is your priority, but what we must do is still aligned. Rest assured, whatever happens between Valchon and I, I still plan to find Alsayer and your sister with him. At every turn, that bastard has shown up, and I suspect he will again. I don’t plan to let him slip away next time.”
“So, to be clear,” said Raif, “your plan to find our sister is to tell Prince Valchon about Stanton, hope he does something about it, and then kill the man? And all the while, we cross our fingers and pray to the Blessed Mother that Alsayer walks around the corner and then decides to tell us where Kallie is?”
“Yes, something like that,” said Rew, “and in truth, I won’t mind if Alsayer takes a little persuading, if you know what I mean.”
Raif grinned and lifted his ale mug in salute. “I’m with you on that. Once we find Kallie—”
Cinda reached over and put a hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s about more than that, now, Raif. We’ll find her, but when we do, it’s not over.”
“It’s not?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “It could be over for us, couldn’t it?”
Cinda held his gaze. “Not for me.”
Raif looked away. Rew wondered what Cinda had told her brother or, more like, what he had heard. Sometimes, it was easier not to know.
“I’ve got to see this through,” insisted Cinda. She paused and asked, “Are you with me?”
“We’re family, aren’t we? Of course I’m with you,” grumbled Raif. He reached over, took the ale pitcher in front of Rew, and filled his mug. “Kallie is family, too. Don’t forget that.”
Cinda studied her brother, and for a moment, Rew thought she was going to disagree. She’d been clear, weeks before speaking to Rew, how she imagined the meeting would go with Kallie. Their older sister had made her feelings known, and then she’d stabbed Baron Fedgley in the back. Family or no family, there were some things you could not come back from.
“Pfah,” said Raif, “enough of this talk. If you’ve no more, I’m going to watch them throw knives.”
“Don’t drink too much of that ale,” warned Rew. “We’ve a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“You’re not my father, Ranger.”
Scowling, Rew watched as Raif stood and left to join Ambrose.
“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Cinda told him. “He’s infatuated by Borace, but he’ll see the man for what he is sooner or later.”
“He didn’t mean anything by what?”
“Nothing.”
They sat quietly, watching across the room as Borace and the nameless woman flung their knives. The woman was quite good. A number of other patrons had turned to watch as well, many of them placing bets and howling encouragement or heckling as the pair took their turns. Borace was not as good, and it seemed to compensate, he was flinging his blades harder and harder, which only made him even less accurate.
“Will Prince Valchon know w
hat my family is capable of?” asked Cinda, scooting her chair closer to Rew. “Even if, like the king, he believes Kallie is the one, will he be able to tell…”
The ranger scratched his beard and then answered honestly, “I don’t think he will be able to sense your power, but I cannot be sure.”
“Do you think, Ranger, that since tomorrow I will be presenting myself to a man who may want to kill me, it is time to explain what this is all about?”
Rew poured himself another ale. Anne pretended she was not listening, but it was clear she was. Zaine likely was as well, but the thief was better at hiding it.
“I don’t think Prince Valchon will immediately attack you,” said Rew. “He probably doesn’t understand why his brothers would be interested in you. Heindaw was always the more cunning of the brothers. He’s the deepest thinker, the one who constructs the most twisted plots. Valchon’s style is more… direct.”
“But if Valchon does know…”
“If he knows and he fully understands, he’ll probably attempt to use you just as Heindaw did your father, that or immediately kill you. That’s the risk we take.”
Cinda frowned. “And how was Heindaw planning to use my father? What is it about us, about our talent, that these princes are seeking?”
“Necromancy is an art of capturing the power that resides in every soul. Some spells channel that power into physical manifestations, such as funeral fire. Other, more complicated expressions of the art, manipulate those souls by tying them back to their corporeal body. You know about that now, don’t you?”
Cinda’s face grew pale, but she nodded and had no comment. Rew wondered if she was thinking back to the opossum she’d animated or if there was more that he had not seen. He should ask what Ambrose had been teaching her, but he would not. Like Raif had decided, sometimes it was easier not to know.
