“Chao,” he said, “if you would give me a moment to speak with our new partner?”
Mag folded her arms. “I suppose,” she said. “But make it quick. And you had better have a good explanation when you return. I do not take well to being swindled.”
“Well do I know it,” muttered Albern as he came and gently took Sun’s arm. “Out back, if you do not mind.”
“What in the dark below is going on?” hissed Sun as she allowed him to pull her out into the alley behind the tavern.
“A great many things,” said Albern. He made sure the door shut behind them, and then he listened at it as if making sure Mag had not followed them. “But here is what you must know. Her name is Chao, so far as she, or you, or anyone else is concerned. And she knows me as Kanohari. Though I suppose I shall have to tell her my true name is Albern, now that you have said it, and it has not seemed to harm her.”
Sun glanced at the door. “She does not know your real name?”
“She does not,” said Albern. The sadness in his eyes was one she had seen often, every time he had spoken of Mag’s darkest moments in the story.
“But why?” said Sun, shaking her head.
“There is a long tale behind it—” Albern began.
“You cannot mean to make me wait—”
He held up a hand. “Stop, and listen to me. There is a long tale behind it, which I shall tell you in full. But I will give you a short answer now because you deserve it, and you will need it. And it will help you help me, in the way we must treat her now. You know something, at least, of the end of Mag’s story.”
“I thought I did,” said Sun. “Though now it seems it was not the end at all.”
“But it was,” said Albern, and he had never sounded more earnest. “Something terrible happened, more terrible than any tale could convey, though I will try. And when it did … that was the end of Mag’s story. She lost who she had been, the person I met in my youth, who I followed from mercenary company to mercenary company, and through the Necromancer’s War. I was with her when it happened, and I have been with her ever since, helping her as much as I know how.”
“So she forgot you,” said Sun slowly, piecing it together. “Just as she forgot Nikau and Orla because Kaita killed her. She remembers nothing at all now, because when she died … really died … it was bad enough that she forgot everything. Like in the woods near Shuiniu.”
“Yes,” said Albern.
“And that is why you told me this tale,” said Sun. “So I would understand when I met her.”
“It is one reason.”
A horrible thought struck Sun. When she voiced it, she could not speak above a whisper.
“Does she remember Sten?”
Albern did not answer, but his eyes filled with tears. And Sun’s own tears fell freely down her cheeks, and she tried vigorously to scrub them away.
“We have to tell her,” she said. “You should have told her already!”
“Do you think I did not try?” said Albern. “Please, Sun. I have been with her for a long while since … since it happened. I have thought of nearly everything you could think of, and I have tried it. You must trust me in this. If I say you must not speak of something, or you must treat her a certain way, I beg you to believe me. When I have tried to tell her of her past life, it has caused her great harm. She becomes a wreck for days, and when the spell passes, she forgets it all anyway. Please, Sun.”
Sun could hardly understand him. All she wanted to do was run inside and tell Mag everything that had happened in Albern’s stories. But she mastered herself. And finally, she nodded.
“Very well. I believe you.”
“Thank you,” said Albern gently. “Now, let us return inside before she takes it into her head to come out here and trounce us both.”
“So she can still fight?” said Sun.
“Like you would not believe,” grumbled Albern, and he led her back in.
Mag—Chao—was waiting for them in the tavern’s common room, her arms still folded across her chest. She looked expectantly at Albern, and he gave her a disarming smile.
“Now then,” he said. “I should tell you something I was planning to reveal at a more opportune time. As Sun here has already revealed, my real name is Albern. I am of the family Telfer.”
Chao’s eyebrows rose. “Telfer? A noble as well, but this time of Calentin. What in the dark below is going on here?”
“Nothing nefarious,” said Albern. “We are both somewhat … out of favor with our families. In fact, that is how Sun came to my attention, for she faced similar troubles to the ones I experienced when I was her age. Those troubles are what led me to take the name Kanohari long ago. But Sun met me by my real name, and I never told her another one.”
He looked to Sun. “From now on, when we are in front of others, I will request that you call me Kanohari,” he said, and then turned back to Chao. “And when it is the three of us, it would please me if you called me Albern.”
A shadow passed over her expression, but it was soon gone. “Albern,” she said. “Like the tales from Calentin history.”
“Just so,” said Albern with a pleased smile. “I chose the name after my wending.”
Again a shadow came over Chao’s face, and this time it stayed there. She placed a hand to her forehead, and it was trembling.
“Chao?” said Albern, worry in his voice. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” said Chao. She smiled weakly at him. “A dizzy spell. It is so damnably hot outside. But very well. If Albern is your wending name, then I vow never to use anything else unless you ask me to.”
“Thank you,” said Albern, bowing his head. Sun could hear the relief in his voice. Whatever had come over Chao briefly, it seemed to have passed. Was this what he meant when he said she would have spells when he tried to tell her of her old life?
“Now, as for you,” said Chao, nodding to Sun. “Albern here says you are to be a partner, and I trust him. But you seem a bit young to me. What do you know of running a tavern?”
Sun looked to Albern for guidance, but he merely held out an encouraging hand, as if to coax her. “Nothing,” she said simply.
Chao’s mouth twisted. “Honesty is an admirable trait, but you may need better qualifications.”
“She is young,” said Albern. “But she is not much younger than you. And in our wanderings together, I have found her more than capable.”
Sun had to duck her head to hide a sudden flush in her cheeks.
“Very well,” said Chao with a sigh. “Tell me, girl. What did you think of the ale here?”
Sun’s lip curled. “It was awful.”
“I agree,” said Chao. “Would you like some of mine? I brought a wagon of it when I transported Zhaojia here.”
Suddenly Sun’s mouth was watering. “I would like that very much,” she squeaked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Albern’s amusement at her wonderstruck expression.
Chao led her outside, where there was indeed a wagon of ale casks waiting. Together the three of them got all of them down to the cellar, except for one barrel, which Albern set up behind the bar. Chao tapped it, and they poured three mugs. Chao set to right away, and Albern joined her, but Sun took a moment. She sniffed it, and the bubbles seemed to break in the exact right way to fly up her nose, tickling her and making her giggle. Finally, she tipped the mug back, taking a sip.
It …
It …
Sky above. Sun wanted to weep. Never had she tasted anything like it.
It was like honeyed sunlight poured from bouncing clouds of gossamer. Like the clearest river water kissed by ocean breezes, and smoked in the cleansing glow of a good campfire. And yet it was heady and intense, with the barest hint of … was it brandy? Some sort of fine, sweet liquor, and the taste of it weakened her knees.
A sip turned into a swallow, and then into a long, long draught. Before Sun knew it, the mug was empty. She stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, feeling every drop
of it sliding down her throat and into her gut.
When at last she opened her eyes, Chao was looking at her expectantly.
“That …” whimpered Sun. “That is the most wondrous thing I have ever tasted. By a wide, wide margin. I had heard from Albern that you made fine ale, but this … this is so far beyond anything I could ever have imagined.”
Chao turned to Albern with a wide grin. “I suppose she might work out, after all.”
They shared a laugh. And then their talk fell to the tavern and its construction, and where they could get tables, and what sort of chairs they all preferred. Then they went upstairs and claimed their rooms—Sun chose an excellent one on the front corner, with windows on two walls—and then back downstairs, where they talked of ale and wine and guests and ale and hiring help and ale again. Never did Albern or Chao talk over Sun, and they listened attentively whenever she gave ideas, even when she spoke hesitantly. And they argued for and against her ideas as vigorously as for their own plans.
Sun could not believe this was real. Here were two of the most significant figures of her favorite legends, and she was working with them. They were partners. No one could know how long it would last, of course, but Sun promised herself to cherish every moment of it.
At last, the night wound to a close. They had all had more than a few cups of ale, and their conversation had turned giddy and giggling. Finally, Chao rubbed at her eyes.
“I should sleep, or I will make even more of a fool of myself than I already have,” she said.
“That is not possible,” said Sun at once.
Chao arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you mean I could not appear more foolish?”
As Sun’s cheeks flamed, Albern laughed aloud. “I think she meant you could not make a fool of yourself,” he said. “This one’s head is full of courtly graces, but she is new to tavern conversations. Forgive her.”
Chao’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. As she stepped around from behind the bar and towards the stairs, she paused. Slowly, she reached out a hand to Sun. Sun tentatively took it and found her wrist wrapped in a grip like iron.
“It is a pleasure to know you, Sun of the family Valgun,” said Chao. “Forgive my doubtfulness before. I look forward to our partnership.”
“As do I,” said Sun, barely able to choke the words out.
Chao smiled, and then she gave Albern a nod. Finally, she turned and climbed the stairs towards her newly chosen room. Sun and Albern remained in the common room to clean up some of the mess they had all made. After a while, Sun looked over at him.
“Why all this, Albern? Why did you pick me? I thought it was for an adventure. Now you have me running a tavern. What is the purpose behind it all?”
Albern’s lips puckered. He went behind the bar, took up a rag, and began to wipe off the small splashes of ale they had spilled.
“What I told you before is true,” he said. “I saw a young child of nobility who seemed to hate her life, and I felt sympathy for your plight. But you are right. There is more behind it.
“I have told you that Mag was happiest in Northwood, with her inn, and with Sten. So many dark things happened after that. And I felt she deserved a return to that happiness. I thought this might be a way to give her such a gift.”
He stopped wiping the bar and looked up at her. Sun met his gaze, but her breath caught in her throat.
“But that does not explain you, of course,” said Albern. “I wanted to make sure you care about Chao. Because I wanted you to want to stay here with us and hear the rest of the story. I need someone else to know the whole truth of it. I cannot tell the whole world everything—that would be violating Mag’s trust, and I vowed to her I would never do that. But one person should know everything, right down to the last. And I told you the story the way I did, jumping back and forth throughout Mag’s life, so that when you met Chao, you would care enough about her to help me keep her secret.”
Sun nodded. “I will,” she said. “I swear it.”
“Thank you,” said Albern quietly. “At first, I thought the burden of this story was mine to bear alone. Then, when I learned the truth about Mag, I thought she would remember our deeds long after I had been laid beneath the dirt. But now …”
He gave a vague gesture towards the stairs. Sun nodded.
“Now, you are the only one,” she said. “The only one who remembers everything.”
“It is a heavier burden than I thought it would be,” said Albern. “So I thank you, Sun, for the help you have been on the road so far, and for being willing to listen to an old man’s story.”
Sun lifted the broom and pointed it at him like a sword, frowning. “Willing? You would do better to call it demanding. I want you to resume the tale tomorrow, bright and early.”
He eyed the stairs again. “I will not do so in Chao’s presence. But whenever we have a moment alone, yes. I will continue the tale.” He smiled at her. “And I will do so with pleasure.”
Sun lowered the broom again and began to sweep. “You better had.”
Sun had trouble falling asleep that night. Her mind was so full of thoughts from the day’s incredible events that she could hardly close her eyes for a moment before opening them again, replaying the stories in her mind.
Eventually, she gave it up and went downstairs. She was not quite sure whether she wanted a drink or to walk around, but she certainly did not want to lie restless in bed, comfortable though it was.
She stood in the center of the common room and looked around. A tavern. And she was a one-third owner of it, along with Albern of the family Telfer, and Mag, the Wanderer. If she could have told herself even a month ago that all this would happen, she would have called herself a liar.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Sun turned to find Albern standing there, blinking at her in surprise.
“I cannot sleep,” said Sun.
“Nor can I,” said Albern.
“I keep thinking about the tavern, and about …” Sun glanced at the stairs. “About the story.”
“Do not trouble yourself,” said Albern. “She is asleep. I confess I do not face the same problem as you. My thoughts are still, but simple pain is what keeps me awake.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” said Sun. “Yet I suppose it is a good thing for me. I had a question. There is one answer you promised to give me earlier, but now I do not see how you can. You keep telling parts of the tale from Kaita’s perspective. And you said you learned the details later. I thought you must have captured her, or interrogated her, or something. But Kaita died. So … how do you know what happened to her in such detail?”
Albern’s expression grew dour. Instead of answering, he walked to the bar. Sun followed, plopping down on a stool. Albern pulled two large mugs of ale, and then he turned to hand one to Sun.
“Have a drink,” he said solemnly.
Rogan approached the cave, the Lord at his side. Together they climbed over the boulders and stalked through the darkness of the tunnel. Though it was pitch-black, they walked unerringly, as though they knew exactly where they were going.
And in fact, they did. Rogan had already seen what he would find here, in this vast, empty cave. And he soon found it. Kaita’s body lay facedown, twisted in pain. There was a hole through her back, and her blood covered the stone floor.
Weeping, Rogan fell to his knees beside her. He took up her hand, cradling it against his cheek, careless of the blood he spread on himself.
The Lord stepped up beside him, and then he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
“Why?” said Rogan. “You said you knew why. I know our goals are worthy, more so than anyone else in the nine kingdoms. But this … this feels like too high a price.”
The cave was silent for a long moment. When the Lord finally spoke, Rogan could hear the grief in his voice. “It is a high price. But no price would be too high to pay. The death of any one person—even Kaita, even Tagata, and yes, even you, my favored son—would be worth it in the end, if we achieve
what we mean to. And yet now we may rejoice. Today, we need pay no price at all.”
Rogan looked up at him in the darkness. “Father?”
“Lift her hair, my son.”
As Rogan watched in wonder, the Lord pulled out a needle, ink, and a small hammer.
“Father,” said Rogan. “I thought no wizard could receive your gift.”
“So did I,” said the Lord. “But now let us say, instead, that I never knew how to bestow it upon them. Not until I needed it most.”
His hands were swift and deft as he tapped out a tattoo on the back of Kaita’s neck. Rogan had seen it a dozen times before. But this tattoo was … different. It did not look like his own, like the design that all the shadeborn wore.
“Can you do this to anyone?” he asked in an awed voice. “Any other wizard, I mean?” His mind raced with the possibilities of what this could mean for the coming war.
“We shall see,” said the Lord. “For now, put her on her back again.”
Rogan did. The Lord placed his hand on Kaita’s chest, where the spear had made its mark. And his eyes began to glow with a pure, unrelenting white light.
Her body began to convulse. She groaned, like a corpse expelling the last air from its lungs. Suddenly the groan erupted into a scream. Like Mag’s when she had come back to life, Kaita’s back arched, with only her head and pelvis still touching the ground. The scream bounced from the rocky walls and off itself again, becoming painful. Kaita’s eyes were wide, and the blood vessels within them split, turning them red.
“Hold her, my son,” said the Lord, his voice halting with effort.
Rogan seized Kaita and held her down. He wished to comfort her, but he knew that was impossible. Not until the ritual was complete.
And then, finally, her screams subsided. Her body sank back onto the ground, plopping wetly in the blood pooled beneath her. Her blood-red eyes spun, and then finally they focused on Rogan, on the Lord. Her expression held only anguish.
“Rogan?” she croaked.
He scooped her up into his arms, holding her and weeping anew, but this time with joy. And the Lord, though weary from his exertions, stood and placed his hands on them both. Rogan’s heart filled with his warmth, with his love.
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 90
