by AC Cobble
Cinda rolled her eyes at him. “Think about it, Senior Ranger. When we arrive in Falvar, my father will be grateful for our return and grateful to be warned of Worgon’s betrayal. Assistance like that deserves a reward.”
“I need to see the arcanist, and that is all,” said Rew. “Get me an audience with Arcanist Ralcrist, and I’ll consider us even. As soon as I’ve finished with him, I plan to leave. Eastwatch is my place, and it is the only boon I ask of anyone.”
Cinda tilted her head, studying him, then stood and left without word.
Zaine leaned against the battlement, her head hanging loosely between two crenellations. She didn’t notice as he stepped beside her, and he stood there silently for a long moment. Around them, the wind pounded the slopes of the Spine, but they were on the lee side of the tower, and the centuries-old building broke the onslaught. They stood in the calm while the wind howled around them. The young thief stared out over the dark barrowlands that lay far below, or maybe she stared at the stone in front of her. It was hard to tell.
Rew smiled, thinking of the last time he’d felt as Zaine must feel now. Eastwatch had been toasting the betrothal of the blacksmith’s apprentice and a farmer’s daughter. Two families that had been in the village for generations were coming together and celebrating the fact that their children would likely stay there instead of seeking far horizons. The fathers of the two children had rolled out the ale and cider barrels, and Rew had helped himself to rivers of the free drink. It helped that he hadn’t had to ask Anne for each refill. The innkeeper cast a judgmental eye when he’d had more tankards than she thought sensible. The innkeeper didn’t mind him having a few ales, but after a point, she made her opinions on drinking too much known. It was a constant battle between the two of them, the ranger trying to slip in another drink, the innkeeper crossing her arms, tilting her head, and scowling at him, trying to limit his intake through the sheer force of her glare. He smiled, recalling how much of a fool he’d made of himself that night, and how Anne, perhaps herself too many cups into it, hadn’t said a word.
“Is this tower spinning?” wondered Zaine, finally realizing someone was standing beside her.
“I’m sure it feels like it,” said Rew, “but I can assure you, it’s anchored tightly to the mountain. Is the fresh air helping?”
“I think so,” muttered Zaine, letting her head fall down onto her crossed arms.
“I brought some water,” Rew told her, holding up a tankard he’d filled in the rain barrel. “Plenty of this and a bit of rest should sort you.”
“You’re not going to chastise me for drinking too much?” asked Zaine, her head still buried in her arms.
“If you’re like me, then no amount of lectures will convince you,” replied Rew with a laugh, leaning against the stone of the tower beside her. “The misery you’ll be in on the hike tomorrow morning will do more to keep you sober than anything I could say. Until the next time, at least.”
“The next time,” groaned Zaine. “King’s Sake, you say it isn’t the tower that is spinning, so I must be.”
Rew put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and instructed, “Drink the water, and then I’ll help you up to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning—sorry, that’s not true. You won’t feel better tomorrow. You’ll feel worse, but the morning after that, you’ll feel much better.”
Standing and looking like she regretted moving quickly, Zaine hesitantly accepted the mug of water. She drank, and Rew waited patiently. Finally, she finished most of the cup, spilling the rest of it down her chin.
“To bed, then,” said Rew.
“When you came out here,” responded Zaine, her voice thick with drink, “I thought you meant to take advantage of my circumstance and question me about my past.”
“Not tonight,” said Rew.
“Good,” slurred Zaine. “My secrets are mine.”
“They won’t be if you keep telling people you have secrets,” mentioned Rew.
Frowning to herself, Zaine let Rew drape one of her arms over his shoulder, and slowly, the two of them went back into the tower and up the winding stairwell, looking for one of the empty rooms that the miners were not using. When they found one, Rew laid Zaine in the bed, removed her boots, and paused. The girl cracked a massive yawn and then stilled, her chest rising and falling steadily.
Setting her boots down at the end of the bed, Rew stared at Zaine’s socked feet. Finally, he bent forward and removed her socks. In the dark room, he peered at the soles of her feet, looking to see if there was a mark there from the thieves’ guild. When he saw her skin was unmarred, he gathered some blankets and laid them over her. He turned to go, thought better of it, and scooted the chamber pot close to the bed where it would be obvious if she got sick in the middle of the night. He walked to the door and stood in the hall for a moment, looking back at the young thief. She seemed settled, so he closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar. She was done for the night, but he wouldn’t mind another ale.
Anne looked disapprovingly at the full tankard in his hands when Rew settled down in the chair opposite of her. She was sitting in front of the dying fire, letting the glowing red embers warm her toes. “Another, really?”
“The children are finally in bed,” remarked the ranger. “This is the first one I’ve been able to enjoy.”
She shook her head at him.
“You want one?” he asked her.
“No,” she responded, “and don’t think I will heal your hangover in the morning.”
He grinned at her. “Zaine’s going to be suffering a brutal one, but perhaps it’s best to leave her to it. Nothing teaches you your limit like waking up the next morning with something to do.”
Anne grunted. She said, “That was rather reckless of you, earlier. The others may sing your praises, tell you how brave you were, but I saw it for what it was.”
Rew sipped his ale and did not respond.
“There must have been a better way,” insisted the empath. “Charging off like that… You could have been killed, Rew.”
“If you had a better idea,” replied the ranger, “I would have loved to have heard it then.”
“I don’t know what we could have done, but we could have done something,” declared Anne.
Rew looked into the embers of the fire and scooted his boots closer, feeling the heat seep through the leather. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her comment.
“This cousin of yours,” said Anne. “Is he like the rest of your family?”
Rew nodded.
“Then he’ll betray us,” said the empath.
“If it suits his purposes, then yes, he’ll betray us,” agreed Rew. “I’ll be honest, though. I can’t fathom how that may be. If he’d wanted to harm the children, he could have done so easily when I was off in the forest with the narjags on my heels. And if not then, he’s devious enough he could have figured a way this evening while we’re all stuck in the tower together.”
Anne ran her hands through her hair, untying it in the back and shaking her red locks loose. She massaged her head, kicking her feet gently in front of the fire, wiggling her bare toes in front of the smoldering embers.
“Alsayer is up to something,” said Rew. “It’s not a coincidence that he was here when we arrived. I am certain he was waiting for us, but I don’t know why.”
“The children, you think?” asked Anne. “He wants them to play some role in the Investiture?”
“Probably,” agreed the ranger. He drank his ale, cringing at the sour taste and wondering if a final mug was really wise. He glanced at Anne and decided he wasn’t ready to admit in front of her that it wasn’t, so he took another drink. “Alsayer has been preparing his entire life for the Investiture. He eats and breathes intrigue, and he does it to amuse himself. Oh, he’ll try to improve his standing with whichever prince comes out on top, just as all of the other nobles will, but that’s not why he gets involved in these sorts of things. He does what he does because of the thrill, and t
hat’s what makes him truly unpredictable and dangerous.”
Anne let her hands drop to her lap. “So, what should we do?”
“We’re going to drop these children off in Falvar, talk to the arcanist, and then leave,” said Rew. “We’ll make sure they’re safe with their father, so don’t worry about that, but I want nothing to do with the Investiture. If Alsayer is here… We should leave as soon as we’re able.”
Anne pursed her lips but did not reply.
Sighing, Rew set down his half-full mug. “I know you don’t believe it, but I am serious. As soon as the children are in the caring arms of their parents, we’ll leave. Falvar is the best place for them, Anne, and there’s nothing else we can do to help once they’re there.”
“If you say so,” said Anne. She eyed his mug on the table nearby and asked, “To bed, then?”
“To bed,” agreed Rew.
Chapter Fifteen
The walk down from the miner’s tower as dawn broke over the mountains behind them was a far easier leg of the journey than the walk up had been. There was a wide road pounded flat by decades’ worth of wagons hauling ore from the mines. In front of them, the barrowlands spread out like a rumpled green rug, sparkling with dew in the morning sun.
From their perch, they could see the thin thread of road that cut along the outskirts of the barrowlands, hugging the mountain range as tightly as it could without traveling into the actual foothills. They couldn’t see Falvar, but it was there, somewhere in the distance, hidden by the morning haze.
At the front of the party, Alsayer walked with Raif, complimenting the boy on his weapons and his courage and inquiring about every detail of their journey through the wilderness and the encounters they’d had there.
The spellcaster was ingratiating himself with Baron Fedgley’s family, Rew knew, trying to earn himself some measure of trust before his arrival in Falvar. Whether it was because he had plans for the children or because he wanted to ensure his message was heard by their father, Rew wasn’t sure. Alsayer, whatever his purported role in the Investiture, whatever his professed allegiances, was steeped in chicanery. His loyalties changed as often as he changed his underclothes.
Rew had thought to intervene, to tell Raif to stay away from the spellcaster, but he decided there was little point. Alsayer was good at what he did, and if he meant to befriend the Fedgleys, he would. It was better to let Alsayer have his way than force the man to spend the four-day journey undermining Rew.
“Your cousin?” asked Cinda, walking beside ranger, nodding ahead to the spellcaster. “If he’s capable of high magic, then he must have some noble blood. If he has noble blood and the two of you are related…”
Rew grunted and did not respond.
“Do you have a title other than the King’s Ranger?” she asked him bluntly.
“I do not,” said Rew.
“Who is he?” she asked, staring at the back of the spellcaster.
“He’s a creature of the court,” replied Rew. “All of the courts, I suppose. I haven’t seen him for years. When I last did, he’d declared no particular affiliation, but was a regular in each of the princes’ entourages. I doubt any of the king’s sons believed he was loyal to them, and I can’t imagine they trust him, but he’s useful when he wants to be, so they make use of him. He might be running an errand for one of them as he says and really is coming to alert your father of a threat to the barony. There certainly are Dark Kind swarming around, and you and your brother overheard the plot by Worgon. It’s not inconceivable Alsayer may help your father with these matters. I warn you, though, do not trust the spellcaster. It’s just as likely he’s up to something other than what he says. You could fill an arcanist’s tome with the list of betrayals he’s been responsible for.”
“He betrayed you?” wondered Cinda.
Rew shook his head. “He’s never needed to. I’ve no interest in the pursuits of Alsayer and those like him. I’ve always done my best to stay apart, to avoid the politics of Vaeldon.”
“But now you cannot,” said Anne from behind them.
He looked back at her. “Nothing has changed.”
She snorted and gestured at Cinda then at Raif and Alsayer ahead of them. “For a man uninvolved, you appear rather involved, Senior Ranger. Admit it or not, but everything has changed.”
“We’ll get everyone safely to Falvar. I’ll speak with Arcanist Ralcrist, and then Jon and I shall return to Eastwatch,” he declared. “You should come back with us, Anne. This… You should come back.”
“If you return to Eastwatch, perhaps I’ll come with you,” she said. “If you return.”
He sighed and looked ahead.
That evening, they clustered around a campfire, and Rew stared out into the darkness. Several ayres and half the narjags involved in the assault on the tower had fled, but they’d be drawn to the beacon affixed to Alsayer like iron to a lodestone. They, and whatever other Dark Kind lurked in the area.
The party had made camp beside the road on the edge of the barrowlands. In front of them, the grasslands stretched for weeks. Behind them, the bare stone of the mountains, broken by scattered stands of the tough trees that survived on the northern slope, rose up toward the peak. There was little cover if something approached them, and they should have been safer now that they were in the barony, but Rew couldn’t relax. The ranger glanced at the younglings, seeing the smiles and noting that not a one of them looked out into the darkness around the camp.
“Your ranger, you trust him?” asked Alsayer, joining Rew where he stalked the perimeter of their campsite.
Rew nodded.
“Then you, I, and he should split the watch,” advised Alsayer. “I gather the empath has seen more than some backwater wilderness town, despite the fact she’s playing dumb with me, but these others are just children. Given what we know is out there, I’m not sure I could sleep if they are the ones watching over me.”
“What worries you?” asked Rew.
“The Dark Kind,” said Alsayer, his hands clasped behind his back as they walked. “The Dark Kind and the unknown.”
Rew glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Do you expect we’ll meet something out here?”
“Anything other than narjags and a few ayres? No, I don’t expect anything,” said Alsayer. He held up a hand to stop Rew’s response. “I’m counting on you, cousin, to ensure my safety. I spoke the truth. My magic is dampened here. Any casting I attempted would fizzle out as little more than a pop. It is only your steel that we can rely upon. If I knew of some specific threat other than the narjags, I’d tell you. But you know as well as I the games the powerful will play during the Investiture. If one of the princes is gathering the Dark Kind, what other cards do they hold? I confess, cousin, I am nervous without my spells.”
Pulling a long blade of grass from beside their path and swishing it in his hands, Rew nodded.
“The Investiture is always a time of bloodshed and death,” said Alsayer. “Blades in the back, poison, it’s what should be expected. It’s been several cycles, though, since outright war broke out within Vaeldon. I worry that this cycle… I worry that it will be bad, cousin. Can you not feel it? The three princes are all strong. They’re well protected. No mean cutthroat is going to slip through this cycle and remove a player from the board.”
Rew grunted but did not respond.
“I’ve spent years in each of the princes’ courts,” continued Alsayer. “None of them have any obvious weaknesses. If I was unable to find the chinks in their armor, then I do not think anyone else will be able to, either. Their magical skills are equally matched, and I don’t think they’d risk an outright confrontation against each other. Even if one of them thought they’d best their brother, they’d be weakened for the third one to strike. If none of the three are felled from assassination, it’s going to devolve into a drunken tavern brawl that draws in every spellcaster and army in the realm. I have a bad feeling it will come to that, cousin, a very bad feeling.�
�
“If the princes called to the Dark Kind, do you think any of them could control what answered?” questioned Rew. “Would they? It’s been, well, a very long time since a conjurer attempted to control more than a handful of narjags. I’d think whichever brother risked it would be in danger of the other two uniting against him. Certainly, the winner does not want to ascend the throne and immediately have to deal with a war against the Dark Kind.”
“What you say is logical, but the princes do not think like that. They think only of winning. This cycle is going to be a bloody one,” insisted Alsayer. “They’ve hidden their capabilities from each other, even from me. I can feel it in my bones, cousin. This kingdom will be flooded with fire and death. The realm will need good men to step in and pick up the pieces when it is over.”
“Pick up the pieces? I never would have guessed that would bother you,” said Rew with a snort.
His cousin’s lips tightened, but he admitted, “That’s fair, I suppose, but what is the point of my plotting if there is no one left to rule when all of this is finished? I aim to attach myself to the winner, you know that about me, and I’d guess the princes do as well, but what if these fools destroy the kingdom in their pursuit to rule it? What shall I do with whatever favor I have earned?”
Rew walked on in silence.
“Truly, you mean to return to Eastwatch?” questioned Alsayer.
“If I can,” muttered Rew. “If I can.”
Two days later, they hiked along the dirt road, following two lines worn into the turf by countless wagons that had passed that way. The impressions were stamped into the soil, packing it hard so that nothing could grow in the wheel ruts, but everywhere else, the grasses were wild and a rich, emerald green. Low hills surrounded the party, obscuring their vision past a couple of hundred paces, but it was enough they should have some warning if they were attacked. Troubling, though, was that they had not been attacked.
