Blood in Snow: (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book Three)

by Robert Evert

  She licked him again and then went rigid.

  Instinctively, Edmund’s hand fell to the hilt of his black-bladed short sword.

  Becky sprang up onto a large block of stone that once served as the tower’s foundation and stared southward. She barked—not one of her angry barks with the growls that scared even Edmund, but the one she used to tell him somebody he knew was approaching.

  Forcing the worry from his face, Edmund stood.

  Hendrick, Captain of the Guards, labored up the incline, chainmail shining in the afternoon sun.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” he called, climbing closer and closer.

  “Don’t be,” Edmund called back, trying to sound stronger and more like a leader than he felt. “I was just surveying these stones,” he lied. “Perhaps we could use them in some capacity or another.”

  Hendrick reached the hill’s summit and climbed over the initial ring of rubble.

  “Getting the larger blocks into town could be a challenge,” he said, breathing hard. “We might want to keep them here, in case we ever decide to rebuild the tower. This is a good place for it. Very defensible should anybody try to assail the town.”

  Surveying the view, Hendrick nodded in approval. “It’s very pretty up here.”

  “Wait until it snows. We’ll make some sleds and slide down the slopes.” Edmund’s grin became more genuine as he remembered his childhood. “You’ve never had such fun.”

  “I’ll bet.” Hendrick shielded his eyes and scanned the colorful horizon. “Perhaps we should post somebody up here. They can certainly see a long way.”

  “Maybe. But they can see farther from the hills to the south, where the Highlands rise above the lowlands. Anybody who comes up here will follow the River Bygwen. If we watch the river and its fords, we should be well aware of people before they arrive. That’s where we should build a tower, if we had the manpower to build one. Around here, an entire army could be hiding in the forests or behind the hills, and we’d never know it.”

  “Very true.” After one more glance around, Hendrick nodded again in satisfaction. “Speaking of which, that party we saw approaching a couple of days ago has reached town.”

  “Anybody interesting?”

  The guard grimaced. “Actually, there kind of is.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I’m worried there might be an issue with one of them. Not an issue; not with him, exactly. But I have some concerns about what could happen if he stays in town, if you get me. We may want to begin thinking about who we let join us. At least for now.”

  Edmund walked down the hill, indicating for Hendrick to follow him. “What’s the issue?”

  “Well,” Hendrick hemmed. “I think it would be best if you judged for yourself. I’m just a stupid soldier.”

  Edmund stopped midstride.

  “You’re nothing of the sort,” he said sternly. “Thanks to you and your men, we’re alive. If you ever have any thoughts or insights, I want you to tell me. That’s an order.”

  Hendrick grinned. “I appreciate that, sir. Thanks. Thank you very much. And for the record, you’re the best commander I’ve ever served under. Still, I think it best if I give you my thoughts once you’ve formed your own. The newcomers are in the tavern, demanding to see Lord Norbert.”

  “Lord Norbert,” Edmund mumbled, his foot sliding on the steep slope. “All right. Let’s go see if we can get our new guests acclimated. Hopefully some of the more useful ones will stay.”

  Edmund walked with the Captain of the Guards through the wasteland of broken stumps and woodchips, saying very little. When they opened the door to The Buxom Barmaid, a swell of voices greeted him.

  “Here he is!” One of the guards pointed at Edmund as he and Becky entered the common room. “If you won’t believe me, he’ll tell you.”

  The voices quieted.

  “Do you need me?” Hendrick asked Edmund.

  Edmund shook his head. “No. I suspect you should get some rest. You have the night watch, I believe.”

  But Hendrick waved this off as if it were nothing to worry about. “I can stay up for three days straight without so much as blinking.”

  “Well, let’s not let it come to that. You deserve some rest and relaxation.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will.”

  Edmund surveyed the staring crowd of newcomers—sixteen adults and five children ranging from a year or so to maybe twelve. He smiled at the two women in the group to soothe their obvious anxiety. Other than Abby, they’d be the only women for hundreds of miles around.

  Abby . . .

  He tried not to think about her.

  “You Lord Norbert?” one of the younger men asked, pulling from his pocket a crumpled piece of worn parchment. On it read the words: “The Lord and Lady of the Highlands …”

  “There’s nothing here!” Another man pushed his way through the group. “Not a goddamned thing!”

  Becky stepped in front of the newcomer and lifted her lip, revealing a long white canine.

  The man backed away.

  “We was told there was a town or something up here!” a third said from a safer distance. “But there ain’t nothing!”

  Everybody began talking at once. Everybody but a well-dressed man sitting by the door, expensive boots propped up on the table, as if he were enjoying a show. He smoked an ivory pipe.

  Edmund immediately thought he looked like nobility. Then he wondered what would happen if nobility wanted to resettle in the area. Would he let them stay with the understanding that the status of nobility meant nothing in the Highlands? Or would he send them back south?

  Deal with him later.

  A baby held by an apparently exhausted woman joined in the commotion, its wails slicing through Edmund’s aching head.

  Climbing onto a bench, he raised his hands. “Okay! Okay! Let me explain! Please, let me explain!”

  The din continued unabated.

  “Please!” he repeated.

  “Be quiet!” a guard yelled.

  Everybody but the baby settled down.

  “First of all,” Edmund began, “w-welcome to Rood!”

  “There ain’t no—!”

  “Secondly!” Edmund shouted over the man’s protests and the infant’s cries. “Let’s get some food in you all. I’m sure the journey was a difficult one.” He waved at the cook, who peered in from the kitchen. “Gabe! Get everybody something hot, okay? Impress them with your culinary skills!”

  “Cul-a-what?” said somebody in the crowd.

  “I’ll bring something sweet for the little ones,” the fat cook called back, wiping his hands on a stained apron.

  “You’re a godsend.” Edmund rubbed his temples, wishing the baby would stop screaming.

  “How much is this hot meal going to cost?” asked a stout man at the back of the group. “I don’t got much money, and it looks like none of you here do either, judging by this place.”

  “The meal is on us,” Edmund said, his voice for some reason taking on their accent. “And it ain’t charity.” This statement kindled even more disbelief. “Just settle down and listen to me. Please! Please s-s-settle … settle down. Settle down!”

  Again they quieted. Gabe returned from the kitchen and gave each of the children some sweet bread. To Edmund’s immense relief, the infant stopped screeching.

  Rubbing his temples again, he studied their faces. Most of the newcomers seemed to be unskilled laborers. A couple of middle-aged men looked like farmers, their skin brown and leathery from countless days in the sun. By contrast, the man sending streams of grey smoke into the air by the door, was probably a wealthy merchant who’d never gotten his hands dirty.

  “As you can see,” Edmund said, hoping to sound more upbeat than he felt. He gestured to the crooked windows flanking the room and to the barren plots beyond them. “As you can see, our town, Rood, has had better days. It burned down a couple of years ago.”

  He decided not to divulge any details. Though nothing would d
amage his credibility more than lying, mentioning the twenty thousand goblins infesting the northern mountains would likely send most of the men scurrying back southward—and Rood needed as many strong hands as it could get.

  “We want to rebuild,” Edmund continued. “And we are willing to treat anybody who helps us like nobility. Everybody. If you can work, we want you. And we’re willing to give you what you’ve always dreamed of.”

  “Does that mean—?” But the woman was immediately hushed by a man who might have been her husband.

  “It means”—Edmund anticipated the forthcoming reaction—“that we’ll g-g-give, we’ll give you land in exchange for hard work.”

  There was a rumble of disbelief.

  “Hold on! Hold on! What do you mean, ‘hard work’?” one of the laborers repeated skeptically. “How long are we going to be indebted to you? I don’t want to be no indentured servant. Not again.”

  “And who are you, anyway? You don’t look like no lord to me.”

  Edmund adjusted his black eye patch and self-consciously straightened his clothes.

  The tumult got louder.

  “Okay!” he called out. “I promise I’ll answer all of your questions! All of them! Just let me take them one at a time.”

  He turned to the man who was concerned they’d be indebted. “Are you a farmer?”

  “What?” The tanned man looked a bit stunned and then embarrassed. “Y-yes,” he said. “Well, that is, no, not yet. I was a farmhand back by Clearfalls, but I mean to be a farmer. That’s why I came here. Somebody said you was giving away free land. And then we met this fella …” He pointed to the man who’d produced Norbert’s notice. “And he said you’re only looking for tradesmen. So which is it?”

  The murmuring group crowded Edmund but retreated a pace when Becky growled.

  Edmund again raised his hands to quiet them down.

  “The truth is, we need everybody.”

  He turned back to the farmhand. “We have land, good land, suitable for corn, wheat, and many other crops. If you can work it, the land is yours.” He raised his hands a third time, cutting off questions he knew would erupt. “But there is a catch!”

  “Knew it,” somebody grumbled.

  “The catch is this …” Edmund glanced at each of them in turn. “You need to help rebuild the town. After you harvest your crops, you’ll need to share some with your neighbors. We’ll give you as much land as you can work, and we’ll help you get the plows and the horses and the seed you’ll need. But for two years, you help us rebuild. Does that sound fair?”

  They all stared.

  Gabe waddled into the common room, carrying a stack of tin bowls in one hand, a steaming pot in the other, and several loaves of black bread under each meaty arm. “Tell them about the voting!”

  “Let’s focus on one thing at a time.” Edmund examined the group again. “We want two years of you helping your neighbor, then the land is yours—free. There’re no other catches or tricks. Just two years of helping. Is that fair?”

  Speechless, they all nodded.

  “Yeah,” someone said. “Yeah. That … that’s fair.”

  “Okay,” Edmund said while Gabe set bowls onto some of the tables and began filling them with hot tomato soup. “I want you to eat and relax. And then, when you feel up to it, mill about the town, such as it is. I w-w-want, I want you to dream about what this town could be like after a few years of hard work. Think about what it would mean to you and your families to have your own land and your own businesses. Come tomorrow, if you still want to be here, see me, and I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  Edmund stepped down from the bench and started to weave his way through the crowd to the front door.

  “You ain’t told us your name,” somebody called after him. “Begging your pardon, but … like the other fella said, you don’t look like no lord.”

  “I’m afraid Lord Norbert is dead,” Edmund replied. “My name’s Edmund. I’m the governor of the Highlands.”

  “Governor?”

  “What the hell is that?”

  Edmund forced a smile and motioned to the food on the table. “Eat. Relax. And dream! I’ll be here tomorrow to answer all of your questions.”

  Edmund closed the door to The Buxom Barmaid and found that the gentleman who’d been sitting in the corner had followed him outside.

  “You’re good with a mob,” the newcomer said. “That’s a wonderful skill to have, especially if they ever get ahold of pitchforks and torches.” He petted Becky, apparently unafraid of the large dog. Then he held out his hand. “They call me Vin.” Edmund shook it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to—”

  Edmund motioned for Vin to walk with him. Although the crowd in the tavern was currently pacified, the last thing he wanted was to be around once they’d finished their meals. After that, there’d be hours of questions, and his head still hurt.

  “So”—Edmund raised an eyebrow—“they call you Vin?” The two walked up the street, men carrying lumber weaving around them. “That’s not your real name?”

  The well-dressed man grinned, an affable grin that Edmund immediately liked. “Let’s start there and see how things go.”

  “Very wise.”

  They stopped to avoid horses dragging a limbless tree trunk. Judging by the amount of wood that had been brought in so far, they’d have enough lumber to build at least two more barracks.

  Edmund glanced at Vin, trying to guess what he wanted and how he could help the town.

  “So?” Vin said.

  “So?” Edmund repeated as they resumed walking.

  “You’re sizing me up, trying to figure out what I can do for you and your people.”

  Edmund’s stride faltered. “I’m … I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be that obvious.”

  Vin laughed, loud and long. “No! Go right ahead. I’d like to know. Take your best guess. The beer is on me if you get it right. And that’s a hint, by the way.” He extended his arms and rotated so Edmund could see all sides of him. “What do you think? Prince or pauper?”

  “Well,” Edmund said, appreciating the challenge, “you’re no pauper, that’s for sure. You have high-quality clothes on. N-n-not, not just expensive but functional. So you’re also intelligent. Or at least you’ve journeyed long distances before.”

  Vin bowed, hand on his heart. “I’ll accept intelligent. Go on.”

  “Judging by your accent, I’d guess you’re from Eryn Mas or the surrounding areas.”

  “You’re good,” Vin said, impressed. “Eryn Mas it is. What else? What do I do for a living?”

  But the thought of somebody from King Lionel’s capital city tightened Edmund’s stomach, though he didn’t know why. Might Vin actually be a prince? Or some sort of spy? He considered Vin some more. Perhaps this wasn’t just a game. Perhaps it was some sort of important test he needed to pass.

  “You’re not a farmer or a laborer,” Edmund said.

  “Why not?”

  “No sunburn. No calluses on your hands.”

  Vin nodded.

  “And farmers would work off—” Edmund started to gesture to Vin’s gut, then stopped, embarrassed.

  Vin shook his stomach and laughed again. “What’s the saying about a fat farmer? Good at growing, poor at selling?”

  A townsman ran up to Edmund, slowing when Becky bared her teeth.

  “Excuse me, sir.” He gave Becky a wide, nervous berth. “Don’t mean to interrupt or nothing, but I just wanted to make sure I understood. How many shovels did you say you wanted?”

  “As many as you can make. Give them good, sturdy, long handles. These aren’t dirt-digging shovels; they’re shovels for snow. So picture yourself scooping up heavy snow from the ground.” Edmund pretended to shovel the street. “See what I’m getting at?”

  “So about a five foot handle?”

  “Sounds about right,” Edmund said. “If you and Toby can make twenty of them, we’ll be in good shape.”

  “Twenty?”


  “Do you want to shovel all by yourself?”

  “No sir! Twenty it is. I’ll go tell the boy.”

  “Man.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “Toby’s a man. Don’t treat him any differently because he’s on the young side. We all deserve respect here, understand?”

  “Yes sir. He’s a good one. I didn’t mean any offense.”

  “Don’t call him a boy again and none will be taken.”

  “Yes sir.” The townsman saluted, though a bit unnerved, and ran off through a crowd. Other men were approaching, all clearly wanting to speak with Edmund.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Vin?” Edmund asked, trying not to sound put off.

  Vin watched the people close in. “It looks like you’re busy, you having a town to build and all. I’ll tell you what. If you can make your way to the stables later, I’ll show you what I can do for you and everybody here. I promise I can help in ways that you wouldn’t expect.” Then he added in a confidential tone, “Trust me!” He winked.

  At least twenty townsfolk now surrounded Edmund. Vin, backing away, pointed to where a handful of horses were corralled and gave a thumbs-up. Edmund nodded and was immediately bombarded by questions.

  By the time Edmund had waded through the endless stream of questions, evening was setting in. Men were stopping after a long day’s work and heading to The Buxom Barmaid, out of which laughter was already trickling. Even from several blocks away, Edmund could smell the wonderful meal Gabe had waiting for them. His stomach rumbled. Reluctant to keep his promise, he made his way to the new stables and found Vin sitting on a wagon full of casks, grinning at him.

  “I d-d-don’t … I don’t have much time,” Edmund said, rubbing his stiff neck, which hurt as badly as his head. “What can I do for you?”

  Someone shouted Edmund’s name from a few streets over. Edmund gave a weary wave, groaning. Vin handed him a brightly painted stein.

  “So. What can I do for you, Mr. Vin?” Edmund asked again, trying to sound politer and more upbeat than at their first meeting. Without thinking, he took a drink from the stein. Immediately his expression changed from annoyance to amazement. He looked at the stein, unsure of how it had gotten into his hand, and took another drink.