The Legacy of Skur: Volume One

by L. F. Falconer

  “What am I to do now?” Kael asked. “Who will care for the child? Who will feed it?”

  “I can calm her for now,” Margda told him. “But she’ll need milk soon.”

  Kael gazed up into the matronly face of the woman beside him. Her eyes were compassionate and he revealed his fears to her. “Oh, good woman, I am but a warrior. I know how to wield a sword and inflict punishments. I know nothing about caring for an infant, and I have no one to help me. What am I to do?”

  Margda returned to the bed and stood at its foot, allowing the child to suckle at her finger in order to silence its cries. How did these ignorant warriors even manage to survive? If he hadn’t been prigging where he wasn’t supposed to, he’d not be in this predicament. She considered suggesting he consult his wizard friend, but held her tongue. She’d not ring him a peal. This warrior seemed to be a good-hearted fellow and genuinely concerned for the child’s welfare. After all, he’d not left the troll to fend for itself.

  “You’ll need to hire a wet nurse,” she told him. “Go to the tavern by the common called The Groggy Frog. Ask the draper there for a girl named Alyn. Just two days ago she gave birth, but the child was born dead. She should still have her milk and she’s a girl for hire. I’m certain you could convince her to care for this sweet little babe until such time as you can learn to care for it on your own.”

  Within himself, Kael cringed. He detested whores. They were dirty, diseased, creeper-ridden things. How could he bring himself to hire one as a nurse for his brother’s child?

  “Is there no one else?” Please. Please give me another option. Don’t make me seek out a whore.

  “Go find Alyn. She’s a good girl. Give her a chance.”

  Rising back to his feet, Kael knew he had little choice. He had to have help with the child, and if this woman the midwife spoke of could help, then he would have to hire her. Besides, he rationalized, whores were known to be discreet.

  He went to the bedside and bundled the bloody sheet and the troll’s dead body back into the sack, then departed the inn, again beneath the scrutiny of the innkeeper.

  He worked his way out of the city toward the castle of King Tilla IV and came to a halt at the center of the stone bridge that crossed North River. He looked around, making sure no one was about, then unceremoniously dropped the sack over the edge of the bridge. There was a soft splash when it hit the dark, rushing water, and as he hurried back toward Fead, he remembered that the contents of that sack had had a name. It had saved his brother’s life once, which was more than he had been able to do, and it had had a name, but he could not recall it.

  Kael stood outside the door of The Groggy Frog trying to find the will to enter, his antipathy struggling to drive him away. Finally, taking a deep breath, he took a resolute step inside.

  Upon his entrance, the din within rushed to silence. All eyes were laid upon him. His presence wasn’t welcome here, for he’d not come to imbibe. Dressed in uniform, he was obviously attending to business.

  Across the room, a large, middle-aged man with a broad chest and a belly to match sat prominently at a long plank table before the kegs.

  The tavern master kept his seat and stifled a grunt of disgust as he eyed the unwelcome visitor with a steely glint of contempt. Although the warrior was a young man, he was an imposing figure, quite tall and broad through the shoulders and apparently a man on a mission. His leggings were badly in need of polishing and his jerkin was so caked with dirt it nearly obscured the king’s crimson insignia etched upon the upper left corner. He carried himself with the air of importance inborn to those of high status and his presence would certainly put a damper on business tonight. Already several patrons were scurrying out the door.

  The warrior strode forth. “I am looking for a girl called Alyn.” His tone held strict officiousness.

  “Alyn is indisposed,” the tavern master answered, waving his hand in a vague point. “But there are other articles here to choose from.”

  Kael visibly flinched. “I do not seek to sully myself with one of your whores. My dealings are with Alyn and only Alyn. Whether she is ill or not is irrelevant, for this is king’s business and if you value your life, you will not interfere.”

  The tavern master began to sweat. What had that blasted girl done to warrant the official attention of the king? Whatever it was, it would not be in his best interest to try to keep her from this man. He motioned with his head to a hallway across the room. “Third door,” he said, hoping this warrior would finish his task quickly, without quarrel. He wanted no trouble here. It would be bad for business.

  Kael’s long, deliberate stride carried him across the room toward the hall through the hushed whisperings of the patrons, his fingers thrumming the hilt of his sword. Upon reaching the third door, he glared back at the eyes of the watchful patrons before he rapped firmly upon it.

  Momentarily, the door opened a crack. The face that peered through, though weary, was the most exquisite face Kael had ever beheld and he gave a hard swallow which thudded to a stop on top of his gut.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” The young woman’s voice was soft and warm. “I’m not receiving anyone right now.” The door began to close. Kael quickly shoved his foot into the crack and forced his way inside. After all the lies and trials he’d been through tonight, he was not about to be dismissed so easily by a mere prostitute.

  “You are Alyn?” He tried to keep his voice calm in spite of the flutters in his stomach. She was beautiful! Long blonde hair was pulled casually up, pinned into a loose bun atop her head and soft tendrils fell loose, framing her youthful face.

  “I am Alyn,” she answered, clear blue eyes wide and innocent. “What is it you desire, sir?”

  Kael found he was at a loss for words, his senses clouded at the sight of her. Gripping the hilt of his sword for support, his self-assured composure deserted him. Inwardly, he cursed himself for allowing comely women to disconcert him so. How often would attractive young women approach with their coy flirtations only to have him stoically walk away. Little did they suspect that his proud indifference was merely a front for his dreadful shyness.

  Alyn regarded the handsome young man before her with abstract curiosity. She had never seen such trepidation in a warrior before and she found it quite endearing. The few she had dealt with in the past had been brutish and blunt, the type of man that even the most desperate of women wanted nothing to do with, which is likely why they sought out women for hire in the first place. But surely this attractive young man before her had no need to pay for a woman. Surely he must have more than his share to choose from, so why had he come to her, especially now in her post-birth condition? And why did it make him so uncomfortable? Unless … unless he was a letch who only desired the bizarre. After all, the draper had surely sent him here for a specific reason.

  Dreading how he might answer, she sat on the edge of the bed, quietly asking, “How may I serve you?”

  Kael found he could not take his eyes off the bareness of her neck and shoulders and the soft mounds of her breasts revealed above the bodice of her dress. His legs grew weak and to save himself the shame of stumbling, he sat beside her, so maddening the nearness of her flesh it nearly caused him to forget why he had come here in the first place.

  “I seek …” His voice struggled to find the words, and he pointed at her breasts. “I seek your mother’s milk.”

  Although the thought repelled her, it was not so bizarre that she could not comply to earn some much needed coin. If this was all this man truly wanted, she could do it. He would be happy and she would ease a bit of her debt.

  She loosened the drawstring of her bodice and sported her dairy.

  Kael gasped, his legs losing all feeling and he was thankful he was sitting down as he stared, his mouth agape. He could not force his eyes away from the shameless nakedness before him and a proud swelling emerged inside his trousers.

  “Shall I hold you?” There was a touch of uncertainty in Alyn’s voice. “Li
ke a baby, perhaps?”

  “Baby!” Kael blurted, leaping to his feet, his senses returning. “Oh, vile slut, cover yourself. I didn’t mean … I didn’t mean for me.” He was disgusted. Had the wench really believed he’d wanted to suckle her himself? The heat of his flush swept over him in a flood and he turned away from her, not wanting her to view his embarrassment, not able to bear the sight of her pulchritude.

  “I need your milk for an infant,” he explained. “An infant born this very night whose mother did not survive.”

  Alyn blushed, hurriedly retying her dress. “I truly apologize, sir. I misunderstood your meaning.”

  Kael cleared his throat. “To be sure. But perhaps I should have made myself clear from the start. Margda, the midwife, sent me. I seek to hire you as a wet nurse for my niece.” Was she clothed yet, he wondered? Did he dare turn around to face her again?

  The invading silence smothered the room.

  It was a real job he offered, Alyn thought. A chance to leave this wretched tavern for a time, and she could certainly use the money, especially now. Not being able to work, even for a few days, only put her that much more in debt with the draper. How could she refuse? But how could she possibly accept?

  Kael grew uneasy. What was she doing? Why wouldn’t the temptress speak? Turning around to face her, he asked, “Will you do it?” relieved to see she was covered again, knowing he would never forget what that dress barely sheathed.

  “I gladly would, sir, but …” She shook her head.

  “But what?”

  She raised her eyes to meet his, her eyelashes fluttering. “I’m not sure the draper would allow me to leave.”

  “The man does not own you, does he?”

  “I am indentured,” she said, staring down at her lap. “I am in debt to him.”

  “How much is the debt?”

  “Two gold crowns, sir.”

  “Two gold crowns?”

  “That is the debt.”

  Kael paced about the room, scratching at his beard. Two gold crowns! A steep debt, indeed. Most assuredly the tavern master would not ignore such a sum and trust her to depart. Could he bring the child to her here? No. That was out of the question. He would not subject a child to the perverse atmosphere of a whore’s snuggery, not even the child of a troll.

  “If I pay your debt,” he asked, “will that be enough compensation for you to come with me and serve as a nurse for the child? I will provide you a room and meals, of course.”

  Alyn was ecstatic and sprang from the bed, bowing down to this bonny warrior who offered her freedom, a freedom she had begun to believe she would never achieve. A freedom from the endless tedium of groping men seeking only to satisfy their carnal lusts. A freedom from the brutality of the draper.

  “It is more than enough compensation, sir.” She kissed his boots.

  Kael recoiled. “Get on your feet and gather your belongings.” He abhorred this servile manner. “We shall leave at once, for my niece is very hungry. But mind you, woman, you are never, ever to attempt to seduce me again or I will terminate your service without compensation. I do not care for your kind. I am employing you only for my niece and have no desire to taint myself with the lubricity of a whore. Is that understood?”

  “Of course,” she whispered, keeping her gaze lowered in obedience as she rose back to her feet. It would be a blessing not to have to submit to this man’s grinding, even if he was handsome and likely well-hung, judging from the lump in his trousers. She was weary of men and their cold, impersonal habits.

  Hurriedly, she threw her few clothes and bandages into a woven duffle and donned a long, woolen cloak for which Kael was grateful. The sight of her exposed flesh was too troublesome to endure.

  Nearly as galling an act as it had been with the troll, Kael forced himself to touch her as he clutched her arm and escorted her from the room. They strode across the tavern to where its master sat. Kael pulled two gold crowns from his purse and slammed them onto the table. “The girl is coming with me and your claim on her is now void.”

  The tavern master slipped the gold coins into his pocket as the warrior and Alyn headed out the door. He didn’t want to see her go—she’d been a handsomely lucrative asset, but what could he do? Her debt was now cleared and he wanted no trouble.

  When the infant was slipped into Alyn’s arms, tears came to her eyes. Here would be a child to replace her own. A child she had desired despite her servitude to the draper. Through his brutal beatings, the horrid man had managed to terminate every one of her pregnancies, claiming it was in her best interest. This last child had been strong. It had almost survived. But in the end the draper had succeeded, and she had begun to despair that she would ever know the joy of holding a child within her arms.

  As she sank into the chair, loosening her bodice to bring the infant’s hungry mouth to her breast, Kael had to turn away, the sight stirring an insufferable fancy within. He focused his attention instead upon the fubsy midwife.

  Alyn gazed down at the child. “What is her name, sir?”

  Kael hadn’t even had time to consider a name. “What would you call her?” he asked, refusing to look her way.

  “Elva,” Alyn murmured. “I would call her Elva. It’s a bonny name for a bonny girl.” Her own daughter, born just two days prior, would have borne the name had she lived.

  “Then her name shall be Elva,” Kael stated. It was as good a name as any.

  “My work here is done, sir,” the midwife said. “If you would be so kind as to escort me home. The streets can be unkind to a lone woman at night.”

  “Of course,” Kael said.

  “And don’t worry.” Margda smiled. “The child is in good hands.”

  Kael could only imagine how good those hands might be.

  Under the innkeeper’s vigilant scrutiny, Kael and Margda left the inn, and as the two of them walked down the dark and dirty streets, Margda spoke. “She will discover the child’s ears right away, sir. I would stick with the wizard story if I were you. It was a good one. I don’t bloody believe it, but I liked it.” She could see too much resemblance between the warrior and the infant to make his story true. But who was she to judge what he had done? It was really none of her business.

  “Oh, dear woman,” Kael cried, realizing the implication of her words. “The child is not mine. I would never …” Kael shook his head, sickened at the thought. “It is inconceivable.”

  Margda squeezed his arm. “I believe you, sir,” she lied. “I might suggest that in the morning you make straightway to the tailor’s and purchase the child a coif. Keep her head covered at all times so that no nosy busybodies get into your business.”

  Kael could see the merit of that suggestion and as they approached Margda’s door, he reached deep into his purse, withdrawing his last gold crown. He slipped it into the midwife’s hand.

  “I could not have gotten through this night without you, good woman. I do hope that this is just compensation for your services and discretion.”

  Margda gazed down into her palm. Her face alit like the moon in full. “I’d bloody say it’s enough, sir.” She had never been paid such a large sum before. “And if your wizard friend gets himself into another kettle of fish, you come see me again. I’ll help you out.”

  “I doubt that he’ll ever need your help again, dear woman, and I believe it would benefit us both if you simply forgot this night ever happened.”

  Margda’s face beamed in surprise and she waved her hands about. “Oh, dear me,” she gasped. “I must have been sleep-walking! And dreaming! And oh, what was it I was dreaming? Dear me, I simply can’t recall.” She gave Kael a wink and disappeared through her door.

  Kael released the hint of a smile, knowing he could trust her.

  As he returned to the inn, he wished this night of lies would come to an end, but knew it was far from over yet. There was a beautiful, bawdy wench in his room and a half-breed infant to boot. His purse was growing light—he was tired—he was hungry—
his head ached. It was almost enough to drive a man to drink.

  Upon entering the inn, he sank wearily into a seat at the table beside the innkeeper. “Please tell me, good sir, that it is not too late for supper.”

  “There is a bit of stew left in the pot, sir.” The innkeeper rose from his seat and left to fetch Kael’s supper, not bothering to reheat it. The comings and goings of this curious warrior had left him in a distressed state—between bringing in pigs, old women, and young women, he could only wonder what the man was doing in that room. His was a proper establishment and he only wished this unsavory guest be gone.

  He returned shortly with a bowl of lukewarm stew, a hard roll, and a cup of tea. “Would there be anything else you require?” He hoped he’d expressed the proper cordiality.

  Kael spooned some stew into his mouth and nodded. “Just the answer to one question.”

  “What would that be, sir?” Uneasily, the innkeeper worried his gnarled hands.

  Kael leaned back into his chair. A disparaged gaze settled into the troubled eyes of the old man. “Why are women so confoundedly hard to please?”

  The innkeeper had to chuckle. “Ah, sir, if I knew the answer to that one, I’d be a wealthy man.”

  Taking advantage of the chance to ease the gnawing of his stomach, Kael continued to eat. “I don’t understand where I went wrong. I was married just last year,” he spoke between bites, “but I had not much time with my bride before I was sent to an outpost on the border of Cork. The girl’s mother was outraged that I chose to leave my new wife behind. Doesn’t she understand that it’s dangerous in the south? Doesn’t she understand that a man has a job to do and doesn’t need to be distracted from that by his beautiful bride?”

  The innkeeper took a seat beside Kael, shaking his head. “They never understand, sir.”

  “When my duty was complete, I came straightway home. I didn’t tarry along the road like some of my fellows. I was too anxious to return to my wife and our newborn child, which she’d only begun to carry when I left. But I sought first to appease her mother with a gift. So I bought her a fine pig and brought it here, then went to fetch the old woman. I found her caring for my newborn daughter at the time, for my wife had taken some supper over to a sick friend. So I bade our mother return here with me, so anxious to present her with her gift. But she wasn’t at all pleased with the pig. No, she wasn’t happy with the pig at all and begged me to take it away at once.”