by AC Cobble
“Coffee?” asked Anne, breaking the stillness.
Rew nodded. He told the group, “I’ve been thinking about it. Even if Duke Eeron is not directly involved, we suspect Alsayer fled to Spinesend, and Vyar Grund could portal there just as easily. They may be cautious about acting openly if they’re not in league with the duke, but high magic can be subtle as well as loud. There is risk in all that we do, but it will be highest when we cross the threshold of the gates and expose ourselves. We should plan our entrance carefully. The rest, we’ll have to consider once we get there and feel the mood of the city.”
The younglings nodded in between asking Anne for their coffee and lamenting the lack of sugar.
Rew warned them, “The risk is highest at the gates, but every moment we’re in Spinesend will be dangerous.”
“There is danger anywhere we go,” challenged Raif. “If we flee, they’ll still look for us, won’t they?”
“They will,” admitted Rew.
“What do you suggest, Ranger?” asked Cinda. “We have to go into the city because we aren’t certain which arcanist holds our father, and the only way to figure that out is to let Zaine get eyes on them. Once she identifies the culprit, we can follow them and find out where they’re keeping Father, or we can take the arcanist and force them to tell us, I suppose. For any of that to work, I don’t see a way of doing it without going into Spinesend.”
“We could send a message to Kallie,” offered Raif.
Rew frowned at him. “Your sister?”
The nobleman nodded.
Scratching his beard, Rew admitted, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Surely she doesn’t know where your father is being held,” interjected Anne. “If she did…”
“She may not know, but she could help us from the inside,” said Cinda, “and even if she cannot help, we can’t leave her in Spinesend if we take Father from under Duke Eeron’s nose. She’d be in incredible danger, wouldn’t she?”
“She would be,” conceded Rew. “You’re right. We cannot leave her there, but we know Duke Eeron and his minions are plotting against your family, so it stands to reason they’d have your sister watched. We might put her in even more danger if we raise the alarm before we can extract her.”
“We all agree we cannot leave her, and I think the ranger is right about the risk of sending a messenger into the city,” said Raif. “She ought to be easier to find than Father once we’re there, and if she’s not, we’ll deal with that when we learn of it. For now, getting inside the gates has to come first.”
“Exactly,” said Rew. He drew his hunting knife and cleared a space in the dirt beside their fire. “Spinesend is larger than Falvar and Yarrow combined, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to slip into. For centuries, the city has been built up with an eye toward defense.” He began scratching rough marks in the dirt. “You’ve been to Spinesend, yes, but it’s been some time?”
“It was years ago,” replied Raif. “We passed through and spent a few days there on the journey from Falvar to Yarrow.”
“I recall some of the city but not any details that would be helpful to us now,” added Cinda.
Zaine offered, “I’m familiar with the poor areas of town, but I’ve never been into the keep before. It was all time with the thieves, you know? They never let me go to the wealthy areas. They have guards in those places. That sort of thing was carefully managed by the guild so we didn’t draw undue attention.”
“The city sits tight in the foothills at the tail of the Spine,” said Rew shaking his head, trying to ignore Zaine. He drew the tip of his knife through the dirt to show them what he was talking about.
“Hence the name,” said the thief, grinning.
Rew rolled his eyes but did not look at her. “Hence the name. There are steep hills around it and a lake which laps at the foot of the city walls. There are a few gates, but I think we have to assume those will be watched.”
“Will they be looking for us?” wondered Cinda. “Even if Duke Eeron is involved, he may not suspect we’ll come for Father, and anyone who doesn’t have a finger in the plot probably won’t even know what happened in Falvar until after we’ve arrived in Spinesend. Surely no one is traveling with more urgency than us.”
“If Alsayer fled to Spinesend as we suspect, he’ll have alerted whatever compatriots he has in the city,” explained Rew. “We don’t know who those people are or how far their reach may extend. We cannot risk walking straight in the gate where they could spot us. Believe me, it will be easier to recover your father if no one is aware we’re within the city walls.”
“That makes sense, but how do we get in?” questioned Raif.
“There are the sewers,” murmured Rew, tapping the tip of his hunting knife on the drawing where the city met the lake. “Far less likely to be actively guarded if the conspirators are constrained by manpower, and once we’re in the sewer system, there are countless places we can surface in the city. We run little chance of accidentally running into someone who will alert Alsayer or the duke to our presence—any people who travel the sewers aren’t likely to have connections in the upper echelons of the city, of course.”
Zaine snorted. “Of course.”
Anne grimaced. “The sewers?”
“It’s the safest way,” responded Rew, slapping the bare blade of his hunting knife against his palm as he looked over his diagram.
“I don’t think so,” said Anne. “Come up with another plan.”
Rew frowned at her.
“Do you have any idea what sorts of disease and illness are spread through that much waste?” asked Anne. “Sewers are hotbeds of infection.” She prodded his shoulder just below the cut Vyar Grund had left in his flesh. “With an open wound, you’re certain to catch whatever is floating around down there. Don’t be expecting me to heal you, either. If you drag me through such filth, I’ll happily repay your kindness by respecting your wishes and granting you no empathy whatsoever.”
“The King’s Ranger, felled by feces,” said Zaine, her mouth tight to stop herself from laughing, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
Rew worked his mouth, trying to find the words to respond, but he had none.
“I have to say I agree with Anne on this,” said Cinda. “Certainly there is another way into Spinesend which does not involve wading through rivers of human waste?”
“It’s well known that during wars, disease kills more men than cold steel,” added Anne.
“That’s true,” said Raif, vigorously nodding. “In the war against the Dark Kind fifty years ago, my tutors told me more men were lost to illnesses they caught carousing with…” the boy looked around the group sheepishly. “They were lost to disease, and we’ll leave it at that. I agree with Anne on this.”
“Very well,” muttered Rew, stabbing his blade down on the other side of his diagram. “If not the sewers, then on the mountain side of Spinesend we could scale the walls. They’re twice the height of Falvar’s, heavily guarded, and none of you are adequate climbers, but—“
“We could take the thieves’ entrance,” suggested Zaine.
“What?” asked Rew.
Zaine pointed to a corner of the crude map he’d drawn in the dirt. “There’s a small community of foresters and fishermen here. They don’t enjoy the protection or the services of Spinesend, but their hovels are built right up against the city wall, and in the back of a tavern the thieves burrowed through. I don’t think anyone watching for us will know of the place.”
“You’re sure?” asked Rew.
Zaine nodded. “It’s how Fein and I left Spinesend for Yarrow just, ah… seems like it’s been years ago instead of months. I was blindfolded for most of the trip, but I know I’ll recognize the tavern outside of the wall. It’s the only one in the village. The tunnel was operational then, and unless something big changed within the city, it still should be. It must have taken years to dig through that wall with no one noticing. The thieves would be reluctant to give up th
eir access.”
Rew stared at the dirt near Zaine’s finger.
“Is it guarded?” asked Cinda.
“By thieves,” responded Zaine, “Might be a bit of work getting through, but I think we can trust they won’t go running to the duke’s soldiers, eh? No matter what we have to do to get in, the thieves aren’t going to want any more attention from the duke than we do.”
Raif reached down to pat his family’s greatsword that he’d laid beside his bedroll. “We’ll get through, whatever it takes.”
Rew tugged on his beard for a moment then nodded. He sheathed his hunting knife and stood. “It’s settled. We’ll go through the thieves’ gate.”
Anne stood as well. Rew chose not to hear what she was muttering under her breath and instead he turned to finish packing their camp.
That evening, a third of the way from Falvar to Spinesend, they made it to the village of Umdrac. It was a small, humble settlement that had grown in between the highway and the river. The village was the final stop before the two paths diverged, the road hugging the base of the Spine, the river slicing through it. Umdrac subsisted on tariffs at its tiny port that serviced the river trade where bargemen would hand off their loads to wagon drivers. Its sole businesses seemed to be the transfer of goods and serving travelers looking for a hot meal and a cold drink. But because of the thirsty nature of bargemen and wagon drivers, Umdrac did significantly more business in that regard than its remote location implied.
Before they came upon the village, Rew told the others of it. He mentioned, “It’s quite possible we’ll find spies there. It’s an easy place to station someone to watch the road between Falvar and Spinesend, and if someone is looking for us, I’d bet gold that’s where they’ll be.”
“Should we avoid the village then and travel through the forest west of it?” asked Anne. “It’s not easy going, and I’ve heard the forest is filled with bandits, but…”
Rew nodded. “We could travel rough, but that will delay us, and if there are spies, it might be best to find them here and away from the city where they could call in more resources. I don’t mind a tussle with some common thug, but I’d rather avoid confrontations with both Vyar Grund and Alsayer at the same time in the middle of the city. At least if we run into trouble here, we’ll have a better idea of what’s ahead of us.”
“I thought rangers relied on their stealth,” said Zaine.
Rew touched the wooden hilt of the longsword hanging on his back. “Walk quiet and carry a big sword.”
“You just want an ale, don’t you?” accused Anne.
Rew protested, and while it was clear that Anne did not believe him, she finally conceded to stopping in the village. He might have exaggerated the luxury of the bathing facilities in Umdrac during the exchange, but they were a far sight better than cold river water, and he spent the rest of the walk to the village thinking of excuses in case Anne tried to tell him otherwise.
Soon, the scent of woodsmoke filled the air, and the sounds of village life joined the stomp of their boots. When they rounded a bend in the highway and saw Umdrac clinging to a low point in the riverbank, Cinda remarked, “Not much of a village.”
“I’m not suggesting you settle down in the place,” said Rew, “but if we learn something of what lays ahead, it will have been worth the stop.”
Cinda shrugged, and Rew led them to the village and through the muddy streets to one of the village’s two inns. It was the more expensive of the pair, and he usually stayed in the other because they served the same ale, but after quick glances at Anne and Cinda, he decided it was worth the price.
The people of Umdrac, used to travelers passing through their village, paid the party little mind. Rew kept an eye out, studying people’s clothing, their boots, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but most of the people appeared to be locals. Those that were not had the look of seasoned travelers. A few of the bargemen and wagon drivers paused to glance over Anne and the girls, but they paid Rew and Raif less attention than even the villagers. Their group made it to the inn with no trouble, and while Anne immediately crossed her arms over her chest and tilted up her chin, it looked fine to Rew, so he paid for two rooms and five meals.
“Just two rooms,” hissed Cinda in his ear as the innkeeper left to fetch a girl to show them around.
“They probably don’t have many more,” explained Rew. He gestured around the common area. “The workmen will sleep here tonight. Give it a few hours, and after the music and the drinking die down, they’ll all settle on the benches, the tables, and the floor if they’re really sotted. The wealthiest travelers, like you normally would, will have an entourage who will stage a camp outside of the village. It’s only the successful merchants and perhaps high-ranking servants of nobility traveling on official business that will take a room. Even two rooms may draw suspicion. Any more will make us the talk of the inn.”
Cinda, eyeing the filthy dirt floor strewn with fallen bits of half-eaten food and spilled ale, looked as if she would be sick. Anne had closed her eyes and appeared to be trembling.
“I’ve stayed in worse,” remarked Zaine, slinging her pack off her back and stretching.
Rew slapped her on the shoulder and said, “That’s the spirit!”
The innkeeper arrived back with his girl to show them their rooms. Rew and Raif took one and the women took the other. Rew slung his pack onto the floor and found a pitcher full of water and a wash basin sitting on a table between the beds. He bent over and began scrubbing his face in the lukewarm water.
“Not going to the baths?” questioned Raif.
“We’ll be back on the road tomorrow, and there’s no time to see a proper barber,” said Rew. “I’m just trying to wash enough that my beard stops itching.”
“They’ll have a razor in the baths,” suggested Raif. “You could shave yourself.”
Rew stood and turned to the boy, water dripping from his face. “Have you ever shaved yourself, m’lord?”
“Never mind,” muttered Raif, rolling his eyes and turning to sort through his pack.
Rew glared at the boy’s back. Raif had a lush mane of hair that fell thick on his shoulders, though he barely had a wisp of it on his chin. Rew rubbed at the stubble on his head and resisted the urge to recommend Raif take the razor to his own scalp.
The boy removed his cleanest pair of trousers and a fresh shirt from his pack and cast a disgusted look at what he was wearing. “I don’t suppose they’ll have laundry?”
Grunting, Rew turned back to the wash basin.
“I’ll meet you in the common room,” said Raif.
Rew didn’t bother looking up, but he did when he heard Raif cursing and then a loud scrape. The boy was dragging his greatsword free from the tangled straps of his pack. Rew asked him, “You’re taking that giant sword to the baths?”
“Spies you said, right?” replied the boy. “I won’t be caught unprepared again.”
Rew picked up a towel and dried his face off to stop himself from shaking his head. “If you’re wanting to avoid notice… Pfah. I’ll be in the common room.”
Raif walked out the door. Rew started toward it, but then he paused, turned, and picked up his longsword.
If the inn had a name, Rew hadn’t seen it on the sign, but the ale was cold and the fire was hot. He’d found a table big enough for their party and had laid his longsword across it, reserving space for the others. He ordered an ale from the serving woman and waited, studying the room.
It was half-full, and in the corner, a lutist was twanging discordant notes, tuning their instrument. Rew wondered if the room was only half-full because the locals knew better than to come listen to the musician, or if it was because they didn’t bother until the man was actually playing.
He took a long draught of the ale when it arrived and found it was crisp and clean. He was quickly on his second. There was no sign of the women or of Raif. He suspected they’d all take their time in the inn’s baths. Rew hurried to finish his
ale, knowing that once Anne arrived he’d have to slow his drinking. He ordered a third.
Halfway through it, Rew was feeling mellow and enjoying the first strumming of the lutist, even though it was obvious the locals had heard the man play before and weren’t interested in hearing it again. Still, it was more entertainment than Rew had enjoyed since they’d left Eastwatch. He cradled his ale, kicking his toe in time to the fumble-fingered tune. When the serving woman passed by again, he raised his voice and ordered a fourth ale.
“Rew? The King’s Ranger?” asked a man, jolting Rew out of a daze.
His foot stopped kicking and Rew turned from the lutist to see a tall man standing before him. The man was clad in an ochre tabard. Duke Eeron’s livery. Beneath the tabard, he wore a quilted leather gambeson, and his hand was resting on the steel pommel of a broadsword. The soldier wore riding boots covered in the splatter of thick mud, though it had not rained in Umdrac for days, and his cheeks were reddened from a day out in the weather.
Rew did not recognize him, but he noted the soldier had two days’ worth of stubble on an otherwise clean-shaven chin. With that and the mud, it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess he’d come from Spinesend, traveling hard and fast on horseback.
The man stared down at him, beaming. “It’s Rew, right?”
“Who’s asking?” mumbled Rew, cursing himself for letting the soldier walk up to him unnoticed. An amateur error, like the nobles would make. He then decided his initial response had been stupid as well. It was the kind of thing people said in poorly written plays when they were hiding something. It was the kind of comment that immediately and unwittingly answered the soldier’s question. Rew sipped his ale and then frowned at it. He set the ale down.
“Rodger, of Duke Eeron’s Forward Scouts,” declared the man. He shifted and then added, “I spoke to you some years back about joining the king’s rangers in Eastwatch. You said you’d think about it.”
“Ah,” said Rew. “Of course, Rodger.”
The man joined him at the table, casually pushing Rew’s longsword aside and stretching his legs out in front of him. He sighed. “That feels good. I’ve been on horseback for the last two days. I’ve barely had time to stop and water the grass, you know?”
