Arnulf cleared his throat. “Orlla will be accompanying with Horace and me.”
Chapter 11
A confused look crossed Catrain’s face. “A fletcher accompanying you to battle?”
Sensing an opportunity, Orlla stepped between them before Arnulf could respond. “No, not to battle, to the court at Lichtenburg.” She gave a hollow laugh. “Did Arnulf fail to mention that he and Horace are Kingsmen, charged with rooting out Brufus’s spies?”
Catrain looked between her and Arnulf blankly.
“We have reason to believe this woman is not who she claims to be, but rather a Pegonian spy,” Arnulf growled. “As your son admitted, he only just made her acquaintance and scarcely knows her.”
Catrain pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes locked onto Orlla, shock radiating across her face. “I had no thought we were harboring a spy. Erdhan would never bring—”
Arnulf brushed her explanations aside. “He is an innocent party to her duplicity. When we crossed paths with the pair at The Leaky Cup, Erdhan explained that he had been robbed and this woman offered him a ride to the inn. In return, he paid for a night’s lodging.”
“I am no spy and have never set foot on Pegonian soil. A simple act of kindness led me across the Kingsmen’s path.” Orlla wrung her hands in dramatic fashion. “It is all a terrible misunderstanding.”
Catrain inspected Orlla with a dubious air. “What makes you think she is a spy?” she said, addressing Arnulf.
He puffed out his chest. “Kingsmen are trained to observe peculiarities in accent or dress, or irregularities in a person’s conversation. This woman, Orlla, as she calls herself—likely a fabricated name—could not give us the name of the northern village she hails from and offered no description of it. The stable hand at the inn remarked on the unfamiliar wood in her bow, and Erdhan himself noticed that the feathers in her arrows are not from any bird that nests in Macobin. Horace has his own suspicions about how she ended up spying for Pegonia, but we shall investigate that more thoroughly tomorrow.”
“What are you alluding to?” Orlla asked, her pulse thundering in her temples.
Arnulf turned his attention to her. “Tomorrow we ride to Dorsching. If Horace is correct in his assumption, someone there will recognize you. Perhaps then you’ll deign to tell the court in Lichtenburg where you have been all these years.”
The air left Orlla’s lungs at the thought of returning to the village where she had spent the first seven years of her life. If the villagers recognized her, she would be compelled to give an explanation as to where she had been in the intervening years. And if she refused to say anything, they would almost certainly stand with the Kingsmen and conclude she had become a spy.
Guilt pummeled her brain as fragments of the Keeper pledge she had sworn a few short days ago, swirled around in her head. She could not undo her sworn oath and dishonor her father’s legacy by exposing Efyllsseum. Akolom had sealed her to all Keepers who had gone before in the history of Efyllsseum—chosen kingdom of light, realm of goodness and land of eternal youth. The rhetoric no longer held true for her, and yet she could not give the Kingsmen what they wanted and betray the kingdom that had been home to her all these years. There had to be a better way to recompense the mainland for King Ferghell’s self-serving harboring of the Opal of Light, without bringing war to the island. She had to escape from the Kingsmen tonight—and she would need help to do it.
“Say nothing of this to my husband lest you rouse his ire.” Catrain wiped her hands nervously on her apron. “If he suspects for even a moment that we are harboring a spy, he will have you all arrested until the matter is resolved. His good name and livelihood in Wilefur is at stake.” She pinned a sharp gaze on Arnulf. “You must understand that Kingsmen are not well liked in these parts. You would do well to keep your profession to yourself.”
Arnulf nodded. “Understood. Put us to work until we leave, and we will stay quiet.”
Catrain pressed her lips together. “Find Josef in the barn. He will tell you what must be done. Orlla can remain inside and assist me. I will keep a close eye on her.”
After Arnulf stomped out of the house, Orlla gripped a chair back and loosed a long, shuddering breath. She steeled herself for questions to come flying at her, but Catrain ignored the topic as though it had never come up, addressing her only to direct her on what to pack and where to put things. For the next while, Orlla lost herself in the work, organizing the supplies to be transported to the camp in the woods.
When everything inside the house had been gathered together and secured, she began carrying the bedrolls, sacks, and food supplies out to the barn as Catrain had instructed. Josef was hard at work in the forge making additional tools that would be needed to stock the camp, his bellows pumping intermittently. Spotting Erdhan swinging the axe by the woodpile, Orlla hung around until the two Kingsmen were occupied loading up a cart and then hurried over to talk to him. “Horace and Arnulf intend to leave tomorrow morn for Lichtenburg. That leaves me only tonight to escape, but I will need your help.”
Erdhan continued to split logs, his expression unreadable as he raised his axe overhead and swung with force downward. “Even if you get away, they will track you down.”
Orlla smoothed a hand over her hair. Not if she hid her trail with veiling runes. But she couldn’t very well tell Erdhan that—not without provoking all kinds of questions. As a Keeper, she was forbidden to deplete the Opal of Light’s power by using runes for personal gain, but she was prepared to violate that code if that’s what it took to elude the Kingsmen.
“I know how to disappear like a shadow,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’ll lay a false trail and double back if Horace and Arnulf pursue me.”
Erdhan stopped chopping and rested his axe on the block. His piercing blue eyes held something akin to sadness as his voice dropped to a confiding whisper. “Are you really a fletcher?”
Orlla stiffened. “Please believe me, Erdhan, I’m not a spy. I swear it on my life.”
He lowered his gaze to the chopping block. “Those rare feathers, the ones in your arrows, they aren’t from around here. I take it you traded with a Pegonian for them.” His tone carried a level of disappointment that almost broke Orlla’s resolve. She hadn’t thought it would matter so much to her what he believed about her. But, it stung to think he thought her traitorous for her dealings with Pegonian traders. Still, better that Erdhan surmised she had bartered with the enemy to make a little coin than that she confide a truth that would wreak havoc on Efyllsseum.
“I did what I had to do to eat,” she responded. “Will you assist me or not?”
His shoulders heaved once, then sagged in resignation. “We will need my mother’s help.”
“She won’t help us. I told her Horace and Arnulf are Kingsmen and that they are falsely accusing me of being a spy, but she was too afraid to speak of it further.” Orlla hesitated. “Why do we need to involve her anyway?”
Erdhan peered furtively around. “To procure an herbal sleeping draught. Horace and Arnulf will leave nothing to chance. They will take shifts to watch you tonight. Unless we drug them, you will have no opportunity to slip away.”
Orlla fisted her hands, then cast a nervous glance over her shoulder toward the house. “How can you be sure your mother won’t mention anything to your father?”
“Trust me. She will keep our secret. She does not wish to sully his good name.” Erdhan reached for the axe and pulled it loose. He winked as he swung it. “She thinks I’m keen on you. I will tell her we are eloping.”
Orlla’s mouth fell open, but before she could respond, Horace ambled into view balancing an empty barrel on one shoulder. Hurriedly, she grabbed a bucket and stalked off toward the house. Was that why Catrain had joked about having a wedding? She must be convinced Erdhan was half in love with her if she could so easily be persuaded he would elope with her on the eve of war.
Orlla shook her head free of the thought. No matter. Come tom
orrow morn, Catrain, along with the rest of the household, would believe she was a spy who had shamelessly used Erdhan to aid her escape, leaving him heartbroken. Orlla set down the bucket, letting the picture sit in her mind. It saddened her because she genuinely liked Erdhan’s mother, and she knew Catrain would understand why she had to leave if she could only tell her what was at stake.
Orlla spent the rest of the morning chopping vegetables and plucking and dressing a chicken for the evening meal while Catrain gathered up an assortment of pickled fish and dried meat and grains, adding them to the growing pile of supplies bound for the camp. As the morning slipped by, Orlla began to doubt if Erdhan would actually go through with his plan to enlist his mother’s help. When he finally called Catrain out to the barn under the pretext of checking the supplies they had amassed, Orlla exhaled a silent sigh of relief.
The family broke for a late lunch, and Catrain served up bowls of pottage while Orlla divided up the last of the rye bread. When they had sated their appetites, Catrain donned her cloak. “I need to go to the market before day’s end.”
“Take the young lads with you to carry your wares,” Josef said. “It’s hard for us to load our carts with them underfoot.”
Catrain waved a dismissive hand. “Set them by the hearth if they’re a nuisance. I only have need of a tincture to treat Franz’s cough. I’ll be back within the hour.”
Josef grunted his displeasure. “Then take Orlla with you. She’ll need to familiarize herself with Wilefur if she’s to be of any use to you while I’m gone.”
Horace shot a loaded look in Arnulf’s direction, before getting to his feet. “I’ll accompany the women into town. Maybe someone will have news of troops on the move.”
Orlla kept a composed expression, but her stomach churned. How was Catrain supposed to procure the sleeping draught under the watchful eye of Horace? They would need to figure out a way to distract him long enough to make the purchase.
Orlla avoided looking at Erdhan as she followed Catrain out of the house. Horace joined them, a scabbard protruding from his cloak, which he made no attempt to hide.
Catrain’s eyes glinted with understanding. She drew her cloak around her and set out along the road at a brisk pace, leaving Horace and Orlla to follow in awkward silence.
The market was in full swing when they arrived, carts laden with fresh produce rattling by, merchants haggling over weights and prices, stalls replete with the sights and scents of all types of wares from cheeses to tanned hides. Crates of mackerel, herring, and eels lined the fishmonger’s stall, competing for attention with shopkeepers selling everything from sacks of wheat, barley, and oats, to wool, cooking vessels, bowls, and candlesticks. A young lad walked by bearing a tray of freshly baked pies that made Orlla weak with longing despite her full belly.
“A wholesome pie, gooseberry, rhubarb, apple, three pennies, miss?”
Orlla smiled and shook her head, peering over his shoulder in the hopes of spotting Samten somewhere in the crowd.
The lad winked and lowered the tray to give her a better view of what he had to offer. “What’s it worth to you then?”
“Thank you, I’m not hungry.”
Realizing her attention was elsewhere, he whisked the tray out from under her nose and held it aloft once more. “Pies, freshly baked! Come hither and get your pie!” he bellowed as he continued on through the market, whistling intermittently to draw the attention of the crowd.
There were so many unfamiliar sounds mingling with the shouts of merchants and lowing of cattle that Orlla felt as if a swarm of bees was buzzing inside her head as they picked their way along the street, stepping over the cart ruts filled with water and steaming manure.
“Don’t buy from that one,” Catrain muttered as they passed a bakery stall. “Crooked-fingered all the way. She puts stones in her bread to make up the weight and charges a full four pennies. A scammer with no shame.”
A woman on the other side of the street waved to them. “Catrain!” she exclaimed, hurrying across the churned-up mud. “Well met, my friend! I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She patted her swollen belly. “Sickness plagues me nigh until noon each day, and the odors in the marketplace nauseate me no end.”
“Well met indeed, Lydya.” Catrain laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “It has been far too long.”
“How fares your family?” Lydya asked, casting an unabashedly curious glance over Horace and Orlla.
Catrain gave a small shrug. “As well as can be expected. Franz’s cough is no better.”
“We don’t have time for idle chatter,” Horace interrupted, throwing an impatient look up and down the street. “Where is the herbalist?”
Lydya narrowed sharp eyes at him, placing one hand on her hip. Her gaze settled on the dagger protruding from beneath his cloak. “And who would you be, ordering the bailiff’s wife around like that?”
“It is no concern of yours,” Horace responded brusquely. “We have business to attend to and must be on our way.”
“Well I never!” Lydya declared, turning to stare at Catrain. “Is that dour man a relative of Josef’s?”
Catrain shook her head. “Just a guest. We’d best go about our business now and get back to the forge. Josef is waiting on us.”
Lydya gave a disgruntled humph and glowered again at Horace. “A guest with a most unseemly manner about him.” She peered at Orlla more closely and her face softened. “I am sorry you are burdened with such a man as a father, or perhaps you are unlucky enough to be this oaf’s wife?”
Orlla pressed her lips into a sour curve to rival Lydya’s. “Thankfully, I am no relation to this uncouth man. I am a friend of Erdhan’s.”
A fresh beam of curiosity lit up Lydya’s eyes. “A friend, indeed? I declare! Erdhan always did have fine taste in female companionship. His dear departed wife was a great friend of mine.”
Orlla seized her opportunity, tucking her arm into Lydya’s. “Perhaps you would be gracious enough to be my guide around the marketplace while Catrain picks up a tincture and this uncouth man goes about his pressing business.”
Lydya smiled conspiratorially at her. “I will gladly entertain any friend of Erdhan’s.” She turned to Catrain. “Meet us at the tavern once you have made your purchase.”
Horace’s expression darkened, his fingers closing over the hilt of his dagger. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he opened and shut his mouth.
Orlla smirked to herself. He couldn’t use his authority to stop her, or Lydya would have it all over town in half a heartbeat that he was a Kingsman. He would be forced to tail them at a distance, which would allow her to search the crowd for Samten and give Catrain time to discreetly purchase a sleeping draught.
Lydya wasted no time whisking Orlla through the marketplace, remarking on the character of the merchants and the quality of their goods as they passed each stall, her tongue flapping at a dizzying speed that outpaced even Catrain’s.
As Orlla had expected, Horace kept a respectable distance while making sure they were within his line of sight at all times. Smiling, she turned her attention back to Lydya who insisted on introducing her to everyone as Erdhan’s intended. Orlla cringed inwardly as the rumor spread throughout the marketplace, but countering it would require even more complicated untruths, so she simply smiled and nodded when Lydya’s friends and neighbors congratulated her. If all went according to plan, she would be gone by tomorrow, and they would have her shocking betrayal and Erdhan’s broken heart to gossip about after that.
When they reached the tavern, Catrain and Horace were already waiting outside. Lydya raised her brows disparagingly at Horace before turning to Catrain. “Your guest’s expression has soured since last we met. Perhaps he needs a drink to loosen his jowls enough to smile?”
“You may be right, but I must be getting back.” Catrain gave a wry grin. “I have work that awaits me before supper.”
Lydya nodded, releasing Orlla’s arm. “Now this guest was a delightful companion,” she sai
d, with an elaborate wink. “Erdhan has much better taste in friends than his father.”
“That he does,” Catrain replied, with genuine warmth in her voice. “Farewell, my friend.”
Lydya glared at Horace’s flushed face one last time before tightening her shawl round her shoulders and disappearing down the street.
Orlla raised questioning brows at Catrain, and she gave the briefest of nods to indicate that she had managed to procure the sleeping draught. She kept to herself on the walk home, a distant look in her eyes, and Orlla suspected she was fretting over her upcoming role in her son’s elopement, and how exactly she would go about adding the potion to the Kingsmen’s drink.
Orlla, for her part, spent most of the walk home imagining how things would go down if the sleeping draught failed to work, or if either Horace or Arnulf neglected to consume their portion. It would complicate things considerably. Escaping from two armed Kingsmen on the road to Dorsching would be a much bigger challenge than fleeing during the night while they slept. She was growing desperate to track down Samten before he signed up with Hamend’s army or Brufus’s soldiers found him. He hadn’t made it to Wilefur yet, so she would backtrack south and try to intercept him. If she didn’t find him tomorrow, she would have no choice but to return to the outpost while she still could.
As things turned out, she need not have worried about the potency of the drug. Catrain added enough to the men’s ale to ensure they were both sound asleep on the hearth before the supper dishes were cleared away. Not even the sound of the younger children’s laughter as they wrestled each other over the Kingsmen’s sleeping forms caused either one to stir. Exhausted himself, Josef assumed they were worn out from loading the carts and thought nothing of it.
Once Erdhan’s parents and younger brothers retired for the night, Orlla and Erdhan slipped quietly outside and crept toward the barn. “Thank you for everything,” Orlla said as she secured her bow and quiver in the saddlebags. “I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without your help.” She untied her mare and turned to lead her out of the stable, surprised to see Erdhan saddling up another horse. “You don’t have to accompany me to the highway,” she said. “I can find my way from here.”
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 11
