Path of Tears (Saga of The Wolf Book 2)

by Kris A Hiatt

  “Like I said, you’re not in a cell,” Brental told them. “You’re free to eat and lounge as you see fit. That can change quickly if I desire.”

  “You’re very good at threats,” Destin told him.

  “But trust me when I say they’re not idle,” Brental warned.

  “And we thought Nimbril was bad,” Joran whimpered.

  “He cast you aside and nearly had you wiped from the existence of the order,” Brental said, quite angrily. “I find you, listen to your tales, place you in my confidence, and this is what I get?” He was suddenly very annoyed. No one appreciated anything he did. He could have placed them in a cell. He could have killed them. He didn’t really need them anymore. He just didn’t want them to make it to Kint before he did, nor did he want to risk any of what they thought to be true to be repeated while he was away. And here they were crying about not being able to leave for a week. Shamir’s palace was far more comfortable than their homes.

  “Even so,” Joran argued. “He never called us idiots or kept us against our will.”

  Brental wanted to throttle both of these men. He really wished he did know how to stone-face them and promised himself that he would find a way to do it. When he did he would seek out these men and make their fears a reality. They were so childish it made him sick. Why couldn’t they be more like Ferral and simply honor his wishes? “They were just words.”

  “Sir,” a guard said, interrupting him.

  “What?” Brental said so powerfully it came out more of a statement than a question.

  “The…the captain is here, sir,” the man replied, stumbling over his words.

  Brental could see the fear in the young guard’s eyes. He didn’t feel particularly proud of being the cause of it, but neither did he feel badly for the young man. He’d have to learn to deal with much more difficult situations soon. Brental simply used words, Liernin’s men would be swinging swords. Regardless, he didn’t think it would hurt to be a little nicer to the man. “Thank you,” Brental told him in much calmer tones.

  “Sir,” the guard said as he bowed and quickly began moving toward the exit.

  “Your trip not as successful as you hoped?” Disdane asked in his powerful deep voice as he sauntered into the room.

  “As well as could be expected,” Brental told him. He didn’t like the smile that was on the man’s face. It seemed to him to be a mocking smile. He hated those. But Disdane was not a man he wanted to call on it.

  “The man you are looking for hasn’t returned home,” Disdane informed him, his face growing more serious.

  “His house remains empty then?” Brental asked, glad the smile was gone and to finally be speaking to someone with competence once again.

  “No,” Disdane replied. “According to his housekeeper, he’s still in Haven.”

  Destin and Joran began whispering with each other.

  “Did your men notice anything out of place?” Brental asked, ignoring the two old whispering idiots. He didn’t know what would be out of place, but it didn’t seem right that a man from Kadenton would vacation in Haven during this time. War hadn’t openly been declared, but everyone was well aware of its possibility.

  “Not that they reported. And I didn’t either.”

  “So you visited the home yourself then?” Brental asked. He was impressed that the man seemed to be taking their new relationship seriously.

  “I did.”

  “What’d she look like?” Destin asked.

  “Now is not the time,” Brental told him, not taking his eyes off of Disdane. “Did she say how long her client would be gone?”

  “No. She said he wasn’t certain how long he’d be gone. She said there was much of the world to see and that he was an old man who wanted to see it before the war.”

  “She’s a looker, isn’t she?” Destin asked.

  “She said that?” Brental asked, ignoring Destin yet again.

  “She did,” Disdane told him before turning to face Destin. “And yes, you got that right.”

  “So the housemaid is pretty,” Brental said. “Who the hell cares if a couple of old men think she’s beautiful?”

  “If you saw the two of them together, you’d see,” Joran offered, smiling.

  “So Kint likes to be with younger women,” Brental said, again getting annoyed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “He’s not bagging her, you idiot,” Destin replied.

  “Call me an idiot again,” Brental seethed.

  “Now, now,” Destin said. “No need to get defensive. They were just words.”

  The two old men smiled broadly and Brental felt his face get even hotter. These two had the ability to piss him off like no one else. No one used his words against him. Especially not these two old idiots.

  “You’d be wise to watch what you say,” Disdane advised the two men as he pulled his sword from his back and advanced toward them.

  “Whoa! Whoa, big fella!” Joran yipped. “He didn’t mean anything by it!”

  The two old men backed up all the way to the wall as Disdane closed in on them. They had their hands in the air in front of them as if it would shield them from the powerful man. Brental wasn’t sure if he should sit back and say nothing or if he should try to stop the attack.

  “He’s not bagging her because she’s his daughter!” Destin cried out. “She’s his daughter!”

  “Hold!” Brental yelled, hoping the massive man would heed his command.

  Disdane stopped and looked over his shoulder at him. There was anger in his eyes and Brental could feel it penetrate him.

  “Please, Captain. Hold your sword.”

  That seemed to be enough for the man because he stepped back and put the tip of his giant sword on the ground. He placed both hands on top of it and nodded deferentially in Brental’s direction.

  “I don’t know how much use these two will be, but I’d hate to waste the servant’s time cleaning up the mess they’d make getting in the way of your sword,” Brental told him.

  “Talk to any of us that way again and not even the King will be able to stay my sword,” Disdane assured them.

  “Yes, sir,” both of them said at the same time.

  “Disdane,” Brental bade. “Would you be so kind as to retrieve Kint’s daughter?”

  “With pleasure,” Disdane replied, hefting his sword over his shoulder.

  Brental couldn’t be more pleased with his new alliance with the massive man. He would be a very dangerous adversary. If the rumors were true about Shamir favoring him, Brental clearly understood why.

  “Sir?” Joran asked meekly. “Can we leave now?

  Brental nearly laughed at how quickly the old men were put in their place. Not that he expected otherwise after Disdane’s threat. “You may go home,” Brental told them. “But be available should I have further use of you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Destin replied, eyes averted.

  They scurried toward the exit.

  “And,” Brental said, stopping them. “You will utter none of what was just said to anyone.”

  Both men nodded and left the room.

  The two of them finally acted like they should around him. He didn’t like that it took Disdane’s show of force to do so, but at least they were finally submissive. He hoped for their sake they stayed that way.

  Chapter 7

  She peered out the window and saw two men on horseback nearing her home. She didn’t know what they wanted and she didn’t care. Kiril just hoped they would go away. She had just finished making dinner for her father and all of the recent visitors asking around for him was getting repetitive. Of course she’d lie and say he was still in Haven. She felt as if she was an honest person, but if lying about his whereabouts kept him safe, she’d lie all day if she had to.

  The two of them kept getting closer and she decided it would be better to meet them outside rather than let them come to the door. “Father, hide.”

  “This is getting as old as I am,” Kint sp
uttered. “I’m too old to be cowering in the bedroom whenever someone stops by for a visit.”

  “Strangers aren’t here to visit, Father,” Kiril corrected. “They are here to find you. Now get your old rear end to the bedroom or I’ll give your desert to the dogs.” She wouldn’t really give it to the dogs and he knew she wouldn’t, but it was part of the game they played.

  “Ungrateful child,” Kint muttered, getting up from his seat and exiting the room.

  She couldn’t help but smile at her father as he walked away. Just like she didn’t mean it when she said she’d give the dogs his desert, she knew he didn’t believe she was ungrateful.

  “And I’m just going to take this with me,” her father informed her.

  When she turned to look she noticed he had stepped back into the room and taken his piece of pie off of the table. He grinned at her and headed back to the bedroom.

  “Get in there,” she commanded, shooing him along.

  She walked to the door and opened it quietly. She took one step out and realized the two of them weren’t any older than she was. They weren’t wearing any of Shamir’s markings. Maybe they weren’t here for her father. But if not, what were they here for?

  They got closer and looked over at the tree in front of the house. “What do you two gentlemen want?” she asked.

  They both looked directly at her, but neither of them immediately replied. They just stopped their horses and sat there looking at her.

  “I’m not going to read your minds,” Kiril told them. “So unless you speak you may as well turn those horses around and keep on going.”

  “I’m sorry miss,” one of them said. “You surprised us, that’s all.”

  The other one didn’t say anything and still sat atop his horse staring at her unblinkingly. She could see a sword strapped to the saddle under his leg. She hoped for his sake he could use that better than he could his tongue. “It’s not polite to stare,” she said to him.

  “Sorry,” he replied and looked straight at the ground. His face went flush immediately.

  “My name is Moffred,” the other one said. “My friend Treace here usually isn’t this big of an idiot. You’ll have to excuse him.”

  He hoisted his right leg over his saddle and slid off with practiced ease. Once on the ground he dipped in a deep bow.

  That drew a sidelong glance from his friend he called Treace. Moffred spoke with charm and he was handsome, but to her that charm seemed disingenuous and well-practiced. She bet that one talked his way into many beds. Not hers.

  “You’re right,” Treace told her. “That was very impolite of me to stare. I apologize.”

  “What do you want?” Kiril asked. She wasn’t stupid. She knew why he was staring at her and she knew why his face was flush. Men gawked at her all the time, she was used to it. It was equally annoying and flattering, depending on who was doing the staring. At least this one had the decency to feel ashamed at being caught.

  “We are here to see Kint,” Moffred replied.

  “I don’t know of any Kint,” she told them.

  “Then what are you doing in his house?” Moffred asked.

  “How do you know it’s his house?”

  “Do you see that handprint on the tree?” Moffred asked her, pointing to the tree. “That’s his handprint and I was here when he did it.”

  So he was who her father went away with. Whatever it was they wanted her father for must be quite important for him to make two trips from Haven. Important or not, they were leaving disappointed. “He’s not here.”

  “Really?” Moffred asked, walking toward the house.

  “Stay back,” she warned. “You have no need to come into the home of a woman who’s alone.”

  “So you’re home alone then?” Moffred asked, still walking.

  “Moff,” Treace called out, as if trying to get his friend’s attention.

  “Yes,” Kiril told him. “Now get back on your horse and go away.”

  “Not until I talk to Kint,” Moffred said, taking the steps of her porch in two strides.

  She couldn’t let him come into the house. She didn’t know what to do, so she just reacted. She stepped forward and punched Moffred hard in the face. Pain shot through her hand but she ignored it and stepped back quickly, ready to strike again if need be.

  “Oh my god!” Moffred exclaimed, holding his nose. “Why’d you do that?” It came out muffled because his hand was covering his nose and half of his face.

  Kiril could see blood dripping from his fingers. She didn’t think she had hit him that hard.

  “Moff!” Treace exclaimed, jumping from his horse.

  “You stay back or you’ll get the same,” Kiril warned, setting herself to strike again.

  “We’re just here to see Kint,” Treace explained as he looked between her and Moffred.

  Even though he smirked as we walked, he approached slowly. “And he’s not here!” Kiril said forcefully. “Now leave.”

  “So if you’re home alone, why are there two plates on the table?” Treace asked.

  “It’s okay, Kiril,” her father said from behind her. “I know these two.”

  “Dad! No!” Kiril protested.

  “Come on in boys,” Kint told them. “I see you’ve met my daughter. She packs a hell of a punch, huh Moff?” Her dad cackled at that.

  She didn’t know why her father decided to see these two again. It was foolish.

  “Wow that hurts!” Moffred whimpered.

  “Feel lucky I only hit you once,” Kiril told him. She was angry with her father and had to take it out on someone.

  “Get inside,” Kint said to Moffred. “Treace, tie off those horses would you?”

  Kiril walked back into the house and grabbed a towel off of the counter. When Moffred stepped into the door she handed it to him. “For your nose. Tilt your head back.”

  “Thanks,” he said, still muffled by his hand.

  Kint slid out a chair and sat Moffred into it. He poured water into a basin and placed it in front of the man.

  “Horses are tied up,” Treace informed them as he walked through the door. “It’s nice to meet you, Kiril.”

  “You weren’t the one that got hit,” Moffred chimed in, face pointed toward the ceiling.

  “You deserved it,” both Kiril and Treace said at the same time.

  “Smart, beautiful, and could probably beat the both of you in a fistfight,” her father said with a wink.

  Everyone was looking at her and Kiril felt her face go flush. She didn’t know why her father always said those types of things, but he made her uncomfortable every time he did it. She did feel like she was smart and she did know men found her attractive, but she didn’t like hearing him say it. Her father had hired a fighting instructor a few years ago to make sure she could defend herself. He said a beautiful lady should be able to fend off no-good hooligans if she ever needed to. He had no idea how true that was. So she guessed what he was saying could be true, but she wished he wouldn’t dote on her so.

  “I have no doubt,” Treace replied.

  “Are you here on your own or on behalf of your Archmagister?” Kint asked.

  Kiril was glad the attention was off of her.

  “Both,” Moff mumbled.

  “So are you my judges so he can come be my executioner then?” Kint asked. “Or are you to be both?”

  Kiril watched as her father’s face went from jovial to dead-serious in an instant. She had no idea what he was talking about, though.

  “Executioner?” Treace asked, seemingly as lost as she was.

  “Come on,” Kint said. “You’ve got me here. Just be honest with me. That’s all I ask.”

  “What are you talking about?” Treace asked again.

  “Dad, what do you mean?” Kiril asked.

  “Shush girl,” he replied. “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m old and I’m tired of dancing around. My legs aren’t as good as they used to be.”

  She didn’t much care for b
eing silenced, but she respected her father enough to do as she was told.

  “Are you going to come into my house and tell me you know nothing? Stop lying, Treace, it doesn’t suit you.”

  “He’s not lying,” Moffred replied.

  He had pulled the cloth away from his nose. It was covered in blood and there were small tendrils that were already leaking from both nostrils, but at least he wasn’t muffled this time. Kiril had connected more cleanly than she thought.

  “Sir, I honestly have no idea what you are talking about. Why would Drevic want to kill you?” Treace asked.

  Kiril didn’t see anything other than genuine confusion on his face as he spoke. It looked to her like he was telling the truth. But she wanted to know why anyone would want to hurt her father. “Dad, who is Drevic, and why would he want you dead?”

  “Girl!” he spat, glowering at her for a moment.

  She didn’t care if he glowered. She wanted answers.

  “Archmagister Drevic holds no ill-will toward you,” Treace said. “That I assure you.”

  “Was he close with Nimbril?” Kint asked.

  “Yes, very,” Treace replied. “But as I said, there’s no animosity there.”

  “But you told him I placed a barrier over the both of us, right?” her father asked.

  “Yeah,” Moffred replied. “So?”

  “Did he seem angry?”

  “No, he was very impressed,” Treace told him. “Now will you tell us what’s going on? Why are you so intent on believing we mean you harm?”

  “Fine, I’ll speak plainly,” Kint said.

  “Please do,” Moff begged. “My head already hurts.”

  Kiril didn’t miss the disapproving look Moffred shot her way.

  ~~~

  “And that’s why I left Haven in such a rush,” her father said, finishing his tale.

  Little did any of them know, but the story Kint told them was the same story Joran and Destin told Brental.

  “I don’t believe it,” Treace informed them, shaking his head.

  Kiril heard the names and for the most part understood the roles of the people involved, but she didn’t know them like the others did. It did explain why her father was so secretive about his teachings. As far as she knew, she was the only one he had taught. To know that he risked his life to teach her nearly made her cry. She didn’t know he was risking his life to do so.