by Blink, Bob
The weather had forced a change in her dress, and unfortunately she was wearing a concealing jacket this morning and a much heavier dress. Her hair flew out behind her whipping in abandon, and as she approached her greenish eyes looked mischievous. Perhaps she had detected the eagerness with which he had watched her approach.
When she was close enough to be heard without shouting, she said, “Good morning.”
Rigo returned the greeting, and held out his hand to steady her as she sought stability at the rail. The contact, even though muted by several layers of clothing, and the flash of a smile from her lips, now only a couple of feet away, had a surprising effect on him. Momentarily a mental image of Inge in a very different state, a residual from the sensuous dream from the night before came into his mind. He felt a sudden flush, and was glad she was unable to read his mind. For a moment, the way she studied his face he wondered.
“Is this weather too rough for you?” he asked. She had indicated that the cabin made her dizzy the day before.
“The breeze helps. We can open the portholes in the cabin and the fresh air helps offset the movement. It is better here on deck. My mother doesn’t like it out here when it is like this, however.”
Rigo was pleased that he had a chance to speak with her once again. He had feared he had seen the last of her, the rougher weather probably confining her below. Now, elbow to elbow they chatted almost like old friends. Inge asked him about his plans. He responded, indicating honestly they were very tenuous and ill thought through. He would disembark at Nulwar, spend a day or two to see the town, then make for the capital.
Inge was a wealth of information, and explained the history of the city, described the various districts and the general layout. She also explained the two main roads that would take him to the capital, one cutting inland and working up through the coastal mountains, the other heading south along the coast for a day, then turning inland swinging around through the foothills. Both took about the same amount of time. On horseback, he could expect a week’s travel. She also had several suggestions where he might stay, deftly probing him about the kind of money he wished to spend. Rigo had no cause to pretend to have more than he did. He was traveling third class after all, and he sensed she appreciated his open honesty. She finally decided the Crystal Cove Inn would suit his needs. It was located several miles to the south of the main port area in a very scenic spot. Rigo had learned from her descriptions earlier that the upper class lived mostly to the north of the city. She hadn’t explained exactly where she lived.
They talked for several hours, taking turns between standing at the rail and sitting on the solid oaken benches back against the bulkhead. All the time, Inge’s mother kept a close eye on them from her seat near the stairs. When it started to drizzle, Inge’s mother insisted they go below. Reluctantly, Rigo agreed that she should get out of the weather, and watched as she disappeared down the stairs. As the intensity of the rain increased, Rigo also went below, and spent the afternoon watching out the window from the dining area. They were far enough from land, and the gray that had come with the rain made the distant shore colorless and uninteresting.
He had been able to hear the rain throughout the night, but the ship had continued on, the swaying not much different than the day before. By morning, however, that had changed. The ship was now being tossed about, and allowed to crash back into the sea. Huge clouds of spray were flung up, and waves even broke over the bow at times. The ship groaned and creaked, and Rigo found it a wonder that it held together given the ferocity of the waves that pounded against her.
Rigo was certain now that he was immune to seasickness, as he felt fine, other than a certain concern being about such a small raft in the middle of the churning ocean. What folly for someone to challenge the seas in a vessel like this? Others were not fairing nearly as well as himself, and the smell of their distress drove him from the common room. He tried to go on deck, but found it far too treacherous. He finally settled on a seat in the dining area close to one of the viewing portholes. He was able to obtain a steady stream of fresh air to carry away the smell of the sick. He couldn’t help wonder how Inge and her mother were doing, but there was no way to check.
The evening meal for the few who were inclined to eat was an apple and a chunk of hard bread washed down by a tankard of ale. In seas like this there was no way the cooks could function, and the food would have been thrown from the tables of the few who were well enough to wish something. Rigo climbed carefully into the hammock at dusk, eager now for the morning when the voyage would be over. He had learned what he wished, that he could survive an ocean voyage, but he was clearly not of a mind to take an extended trip at the moment even if he had the funds. Risking a voyage far from land seemed more than a little foolhardy to him. He would be very glad to be back on land.
Sometime during the night the storm abated, and he woke to the kind of calm he’d experienced the first day of the voyage. He ate, hurried onto the deck, but no one was there. He stayed on deck as they made port, hoping that Inge might appear one last time, but it didn’t happen. He watched as the first class passengers were allowed to disembark first, and he thought he might have seen her in the crowd, but it was difficult to tell. By the time he was able to set foot on the pier, those who had been allowed off first were long gone. Knowing it didn’t really matter, he still wished to have spoken with her once more. He picked up his pack and turned south. His first order of business would be to seek out the inn.
Chapter 7
Nulwar, and Inge as well, were days behind him. Rigo had elected to take the southern road. It gave him an opportunity to visit several of the small towns that dotted the shores along the Great Sea, which offered a different experience than the larger port cities. Nulwar had been different than Garth only in size, otherwise the two could have been interchangeable. Nulwar was larger, and was responsible for well over half of the goods that entered Branid by sea. It also had a larger percentage of the truly wealthy than Garth. The relative proximity to the capital might have been one reason for that. Now, after a week heading south, Rigo had turned inland. He was moving far slower than Inge had predicted, but that was because he was on foot, and wasn’t pressing to reach the big city. He wanted to see what the countryside had to offer.
To save coin that he was certain to need in Sulen, Rigo had taken to making camp each night rather than seeking the more comfortable lodgings offered by an inn. The weather had generally been fine, with only infrequent showers, and game had been plentiful. He did not feel at all put out, and camped far enough off the road that no one generally knew he was around, which he felt would make the habit safe enough.
He was nearly a week out from Sulen when he was taken into custody. He was up and preparing to break camp when the two armed men came riding over the crest of the small hill that he’d camped behind to hide him from the road. From their dress he could tell they were soldiers, or at least something of the sort. He stood and waited for them to address him.
“Stand fast!” commanded the closest of the two men. Both were large and imposing figures and each had drawn a large sword from a scabbard strapped to their backs.
“Is something wrong?” Rigo asked, now somewhat concerned. The actions were directed toward him as if he had committed some kind of crime.
“You shall consider yourself in custody,” the soldier informed him.
“For what?” asked Rigo shocked.
“Hunting on private land is an offense,” the soldier explained.
So that was it. He was on some Lord’s land. “How would I know it is private,” Rigo asked. “There are no markings.”
“Everyone knows whose land it is. It is your responsibility to be aware of such things.”
Well, Rigo couldn’t argue that. Back home the land wasn’t marked and everyone just sort of knew whose land he was on. Of course, back home no one begrudged anyone the odd hare or two for dinner either.
“I wasn’t hunting,” he explained. “I
merely was camping for the night before continuing on to Sulen.”
The second of the soldiers pointed to the bones and the skins of the hare he had cooked. “I would say you were hunting. It will be up to the magistrate to decide.”
They ordered him to stand while they checked him and his belongings. His only real weapon intrigued them, the knife he’d acquired from the thug on the pier in Garth. It wasn’t the best workmanship available by any means, but it was true Kellmore steel, and therefore worth more than the rest of his belongings combined, including the gold in his slowly depleting purse. They never gave the staff a second look.
“It was my father’s,” Rigo lied when they asked him. There was no way they could tell if he was lying, and under the circumstances he could see little gain in explaining where it had come from.
The elder soldier looked at him as if to say he didn’t believe him. They were somewhat taken aback when they saw the coin he had in his purse. A more careful search revealed the money belt and the additional coin Rigo had secured there. He expected them to snatch the coin then and there, but these men were either loyal or afraid of their superiors. They put the coin purse and belt in a sack along with his knife and the necklace they took from him. After a careful search of his person, they commanded him to follow between the two horses. They walked away leaving the old walking stick behind. Rigo couldn’t carry it as his hands were bound and he felt it was probably better to not make an issue of the staff.
At least they were headed in the direction Rigo had wanted to go, so he wasn’t backtracking. He was confident the matter could be resolved and would be on his way before long. After slightly more than an hour of rapid walking, they came to a turnoff. Rigo’s captors made the turn, and within another five minutes they came to a large stone structure. Rigo was escorted inside and locked in a large cell along with several other prisoners.
“What now?” Rigo asked, uncertain what to expect.
“Now you wait for the magistrate to plead your case,” one of the guards replied.
“Later today?” Rigo asked hopefully.
The guard looked at him and laughed before walking away as if he’d just heard a good story.
They kept him there for three days. He knew he could get out if he really wanted, but that would draw attention he didn’t wish, and he didn’t feel he was in any real danger. At least they fed him, albeit it not very well, and he was learning a great deal talking with some of the others in the cell.
King Therl Rupermore at the ripe old age of fifty-four was healthy and remained very much in control of the kingdom as he had for more than three and a half decades. At that age he was still half a decade away from the average life span of those who died from causes other than war. It was said that the effects of age were starting to take their toll, but overall he appeared to be doing well. The Queen, Usaya, was the King’s third wife, the previous two having died from various causes many years before. Usaya was the mother of the King’s youngest daughter, Hegha, who was reported to be spoiled, pampered, and a truly willful child. At seventeen years of age she had discovered men, and the stories were she actively sought the sons of the Lords. Supposedly there were few that had not sampled the charms of the willful young woman.
The two sons, identical twins as it were, Rhory and Rhog, were both twenty-four and were the offspring of the King’s first wife who had died in childbirth. The elder of two brothers, elder by a matter of several minutes and therefore Bauumi, the rightful heir to the throne, was in fact everything the people might want in a future king. He was tall, strong, good looking, and more importantly smart and a natural leader. He was married to a woman he’d known since childhood. His wife had the very rare white-blond hair that marked her as one of the Ny’ild who according to legend were able to foretell the future. The fact she had never demonstrated such a talent did not change how she was viewed by the people, and the thought of one who potentially had such power was seen as a good thing for a future queen.
Rhog, who by sheer chance was technically the younger brother and therefore Thilas, the second in succession, shared his brother’s height, but not his good looks or physical stature. Twice cursed, a childhood illness had ravaged his face, leaving it somewhat scarred, in addition to stunting his development so that he was a much leaner and lankier version of his twin. Single, a womanizer, and short of temper, Rhog was a cunning and devious young man who many thought was less than content with his position at the Royal Court.
The final Royal sibling, the daughter of the King’s second wife was Mydra, who at age twenty-two was a true beauty. With the raven black hair of her mother, and smoldering brown eyes, she had been sought by many of the elder sons of Branid’s nobility. Thus far, she had rejected any consideration of marriage, and the rumors were her father was starting to run short of patience. She was rapidly reaching an age where it would be more difficult for her to find a suitable husband. Many blamed the King for the situation. He had allowed Mydra to be tutored along with her brothers, something normally only the male heirs were permitted. The scholars who had taught the Royal offspring had opened Mydra’s eyes to greater things, and she was now disinclined to becoming a nobleman’s decoration. Rigo found it interesting that nothing was mentioned of an impending marriage with the son of Kellmore’s King. Either Inge was mistaken, or the gossip of the inner court had not yet reached the streets.
On the morning of the fourth day since his detention they came for him. He was escorted from the cell by a trio of guards he’d never seen before and taken to the magistrate. Others appeared to be waiting outside the court, but they bypassed those waiting and went directly inside. They arrived just in time to witness the previous defendant being hauled away in tears, crying out his innocence. The sight did nothing to dispel Rigo’s apprehension.
“Speak only to answer specific questions put to you,” the guard advised him. “Insolence is not tolerated by his honor, and you will find the outcome of your case could be directly affected by your attitude.”
Wondering if he should have attempted escape during one of the previous nights, Rigo stood before the magistrate. Rigo’s attention wandered and he noted the linked circles of Risos on one banner and the Royal Bear on another. He wondered how this would go if they knew the reason he had begun his journey and left Daro.
The magistrate peered down at him from the bench set well above the rabble to be judged. He sensed the man having a careful look at him as if trying to judge his character. He wished he had been wearing his better set of clothes. What he had on was travel worn and stained.
“You have been accused of a major offense,” the magistrate began. “I see from the records of your arrest that you had sufficient funds on your person that there was no need for you to be engaged in unlawful poaching as you were. Can you explain why you didn’t stay at an inn given it was within your means?”
Rigo glanced at the guard who nodded.
“The coin I carried is the whole of my wealth,” Rigo explained. “I am on an extended pilgrimage to see what I can of my homeland and those funds will have to see me through my journey. I have tried to conserve by sleeping in the wilds and hunting for my meals whenever possible. As I’ve come into the more populated areas, this has become more difficult. I didn’t realize, however, that it was an offense to do so.”
“How did you come by your coin. You do not dress like one who would normally carry such a sum.”
“The money was left to me by my father,” Rigo lied. “I dress as I do because it diverts attention and camping as I do, these clothes are more durable and suitable for traveling.”
“And the weapon you carry?”
“My father’s before he died,” Rigo said, repeating the falsehood he’d manufactured several days before. “It is better than needed for the skinning and cutting I do, but it also is one of the only links that remain to my father.”
The magistrate asked additional questions, including where he had been and where he was from. Finally he said
, “There are no indications of misdeeds along the road where you were apprehended, and no one who has reported a thief or such matching your description.”
Rigo realized that during the time he’d been locked up someone had done some checking.
“I will therefore elect to accept your tale and allow you to continue on your way given several provisions,” the magistrate continued. “You will use some of your coin to buy supplies so you do not have to raid the lands of those you pass. You may sleep on lands provided you first obtain the permission of the owner, otherwise you must pay for appropriate lodging. Finally, you must reimburse the Lord for the trespass and unlawful poaching on his preserve.”
The magistrate named an amount. It was more than three times what it would have cost Rigo to stay at a fine inn complete with meals. He was wise enough, however, not to protest. He nodded his acceptance.
The guard suddenly grabbed his shoulder and pointed toward the exit. They went through a different door than they had used to enter, and Rigo found himself in a back room. His belongings were returned to him after the stated amount was extracted from his purse. Quickly he checked through his goods, somewhat surprised to find everything, the knife and his money in particular, were being returned. He tightened the money belt, slipped the necklace into place and then looked at the guard expectantly.
“You are free to go,” the man said. “Be careful not to break any additional laws. It is not often the magistrate is so lenient.”
“Where is the market?” Rigo asked. “I am going to need to buy provisions before I set out again.”
The guard gave him rough directions and Rigo left out the back, anxious to be away. Sometime later, his pack heavier with the weight of several days supply of food, Rigo turned back onto the road heading toward Sulen. He had gone less than a hundred paces when he saw his staff leaning up against a tree off to the side. He walked over and picked it up, then continued on his way.
