Ehren had his back to the wall of the inn's common room, scanning the room as ever. Unai was next to him, and Laine on the other side of that, trapping the little man between the two of them. But even Unai seemed to have no desire to create a scene, not with all the Lorakan soldiers around.
Ehren had said something. "What?" Laine asked, sounding a little dimwitted even to himself. He probably even deserved the disgusted look Shette threw at him.
"I don't think we should go any further," Ehren said.
"You have to take me to Everdawn— that's the deal!" Unai's voice, which had lost its frightened edge over days of uneventful travel, grew tense again.
Ehren raised an eyebrow at him and picked up a chicken leg. Shette had just tried her first mouthful and had an incredulous look on her face; she snatched up the mug of watered wine in front of her and gulped it down. Hmmm. Laine was going to have to give it a try.
This inn— so close to Everdawn— was a step above the others at which they'd stayed. In an inn of this quality, one expected the beds to be spelled against fleas and the hall to have a glow-spell all night long; all the little amenities that were available in the cities.
But Shette had yet to get used to the food. Laine gave his little sister an affectionate, what-else-can-you-expect look for which she would have smacked him if she hadn't been too busy blinking tears from her eyes.
When she'd caught her breath, Ehren finally responded to Unai. "You're close enough. Travel out with some of these soldiers tomorrow and you'll have an escort all the way in. I can't chance getting caught up in anything here."
"But you're not doing anything wrong," Shette protested.
"Only following a lead I'm not supposed to follow, and ignoring the orders I was given," Ehren said wryly. "Varien would love to see me in trouble— and he'd probably laugh himself to sleep every night if he managed to get me stranded by denying my ties to the Guard."
"Why?" she demanded.
Ehren shook his head. "Tedious details, Shette. Let's just say the man doesn't like me, and that's reason enough."
"But I can't keep up with the soldiers," Unai said, his voice suspiciously close to a whine.
"The grey is yours," Ehren said without hesitation. "You might get a good price for him in Everdawn, if you bargain carefully." He pinned the little man with his stare. "Don't squirm, Unai. Just talk. You've certainly learned enough about us by now to realize we're not going to kill you as you sleep tonight. For that matter, you can sleep where you choose, after I have what I want."
Unai pressed his lips together, a stubborn look entering his eyes. Ehren leaned forward, set his elbows against the table and said, his voice deliberate and quiet, "You're not going to get anything more out of me. But I'm perfectly willing to take you out behind the barn tonight and dunk you in the river until I get what I want out of you."
Laine believed him, flashing back to the sight of a short swordswoman's ropy grey guts spilled out on the ground. Unai, too, seemed to take Ehren's words seriously, especially after looking at Laine's expression. He sank down on his low, wide-seated stool and nodded. "But not here."
Ehren didn't argue. "Not here," he said. "After we eat, Laine and Shette will head for the river to clean up while you and I check on the horses." It wasn't, Laine noticed, a suggestion. "And then, Unai, you and I will have a little talk."
Also not a suggestion. And to judge by his expression, Unai well knew it.
~~~~~
But Laine and Shette didn't come back. Not when Ehren expected them, and not afterward, with the horses seen to and Unai tucked away in their room.
Ehren stood in front of the inn, looking along the road— back the way they'd come, toward the river. Unai he'd left tied and gagged— for Ehren trusted him even less now that the little man was close to what he considered safety.
This was one lead Ehren wasn't about to lose.
So Unai was tied, Laine and Shette were errant, and Ehren was heading for the road with long strides, jingling slightly from boot buckles he could tighten if he wasn't actually enjoying the sound. The walk itself was pleasant, with an almost-full moon and a number of enthusiastic insects chirping and humming to each other in the narrow track of woods between himself and the river.
When he saw a lone figure coming his way, he slowed. Not Laine— this was a tall, thin man sporting a neat beard and hair that caught silver in the moonlight. He had a walking stick, and the stick... glowed. By the time he reached the man, Ehren realized he'd found his first road wizard— one of the bevy of competent Lorakan magic-users who patrolled and spelled the Trade Road in the off-use hours. There were spells to keep the roads from rutting and wearing away, spells to keep the woods growth at bay, spells to keep those same woods healthy and full of forage for wayside campers. Most importantly, the wizards patrolled to keep travelers from falling prey to the same kind of old wandering magic that made Laine's Sight so valuable to the caravan.
Ehren lifted a hand in greeting as they were about to pass, but the other man stopped short. "Now that's something." He didn't wait for a response, or do so much as offer a greeting. "What is that you're wearing? The layers in it are masterful. May I see it?"
"Maybe," Ehren said, finding himself more amused than alarmed. Whatever world this wizard spent most of his time in, it didn't seem to be Loraka. "What are you looking at?"
"What?" Completely baffled, the man merely stared at him a moment. "Oh! Pardon me. You're wearing something around your neck. I was wondering if I could see it."
The ring. "It's personal."
"Oh, not to worry. I won't be able to read the spells themselves. I just want to examine the definition of the layers. It's rare to see such workmanship— I can tell that from here. It's a significantly recent process, just out of Loraka the city, and can only be done with a certain class of spells."
New. Just out of Loraka the city. Varien, it seemed, kept his hand in. Ehren closed his hand over the ring. "Layers?"
"This object has two kinds of spells— three that operate separately from one another, and a fourth that's nested in one of the others. Trigger that one spell, and the nested spell follows. One of the individual spells is operating right now, while the other two— including the one that will trigger the nested spell— is quiescent." The man sounded like he was lecturing an apprentice, and he must have realized it, for he broke off and gave another sheepish grin. "Sorry again. As I said, it's a fascinating piece."
Four spells. He knew of the finding spell; he knew of the spell that would identify Dannel's family. But what of the other two? Ehren hesitated no longer; he pulled the ring over his head and held it out.
"Nice ring," the man said absently. "It seems to have a history behind it."
Ehren had seen Varien's sly works, and he'd seen cottage witchy work. He'd never come across a working wizard who was immersed in his craft on a daily basis, yet treated it so offhandedly.
After a moment, the man sighed and handed the ring back. "Yes, indeed. I thank you. This has helped to clarify some questions I've had."
Ehren didn't wait for the wizard to enumerate those questions. "What of the spells? What can you tell?"
The man blinked a little. "I said I wouldn't be able to read the spells, and I can't. They've been laminated with energy. As I said, a very nice ring."
"Were they all set at the same time?" It had been Wilna's ring, after all... a spell of affection set on it when she gave it to Benlan wouldn't have been out of the ordinary for a royal budget.
"Oh, yes. They have to be, or the stone won't take them. It's very tricky. There was a separate spell— on the metal instead of the stone— placed earlier in the ring's life, but it's mostly obliterated by the new ones. Those, I'd say, are but six months old."
"Six months?" Ehren repeated in surprise. Varien had this ring ready for six months? Why, late winter had been filled with most of Ehren's successes in his search for Benlan's killers. It was a time when he firmly believed he was following the trail to it
s head, and would soon have all of the conspirators in hand. It was also the time of the first attempt against his life— although all of those could certainly be dismissed as random acts of attempted theft.
If the thief was exceedingly stupid, and screened his victims on the basis of how well armed and horsed they were— and then chose the best of those instead of the worst.
"Six months, give or take a few weeks," the wizard said modestly. "I take it you know little of this ring's history."
"Some of it I know," Ehren mused darkly, "and some of it I obviously don't. Is there any way to find out?"
"Aside from triggering the spells? No. Though I could probably do that for you, if you don't know the trigger keys."
Ehren stared down the dark road, and thought it no darker than the road Varien had sent him on. "No," he said. "This is not the time or place."
The man shrugged, obviously disappointed, and returned the ring. "Well, then, any good wizard could do the same."
A murmur of conversation broke the silence that followed— Laine and Shette, still no more than vague shapes in the darkness as they walked up the road. "Ehren!" Laine called. "Sorry we're late. It's Shette's fault."
"Hey!" Shette said, along with the sound of a damp sisterly smack on the arm. "You splashed me first!"
Ah. Horseplay, not trouble. Ehren relaxed tension he hadn't been aware of, and dropped the ring back around his neck, tucking it carefully away. "Thank you," he told the wizard. "You've been of help."
"Think nothing of it," the man said. "It was a pleasant diversion to the night's work." He nodded and moved on down the road, his walking stick glowing softly as a hazy red counterpoint to the moonlight, and Ehren watched him go.
The information was, he knew, far more than nothing.
~~~~~~~~~
CHAPTER SEVEN
"My family's lived in Therand for many years," Unai said. Talking. Finally talking. "Long enough to be adopted into Clan Shahinian. But we came from Solvany. And there was a reason we left it." It was the first time he'd strung more than two strong sentences together since they'd met, and he seemed a bit taken aback by the accomplishment.
"Go on," Ehren suggested, although Laine heard steel backing his quiet tone.
For the first time in far too many days, Laine felt clean and cool... since the camp where they'd found Shette, he decided. His shirt hung over the window sill, catching the breeze to dry; the exposed cut on his arm was red-edged and angry, and reminded him of that afternoon every time he caught a glimpse of it.
He didn't want to think about that afternoon. It'd taken days to get his head fully clear, and now that he'd found his wits again he wanted to keep them.
Unai sat on one of the two beds, his satchel clutched to his chest. Shette curled up at the head of the other, Ehren sat at her feet, and Laine sat cross-legged on the floor by the end of the same bed.
At Unai's hesitation, Ehren grew more still, more focused. "Tell us what you know, and we can quit one another's company. You've made it plain that's what you want."
Unai shifted with reluctance. "I could be killed for what I know."
Ehren stood, an abrupt and sudden teetering of his temper. "And will be, if you don't talk!"
In the stunned silence that followed, Ehren's voice became more quiet, but no less intense. "The sooner you stop being the only target to aim for, the safer you'll be." He towered over the man, seemed to realize the intimidation was only prolonging matters, and sat down again with obvious effort.
"Once I give this to you," Unai said slowly, "I'm through with all of this. I'm going back to Grettlingdon to raise sheep with the rest of my family." He gave his satchel an odd look, and slowly held it out to Ehren.
Maybe, Laine thought, Unai did better as a sheep farmer than an adventurer. The Guides knew he wasn't cut out to take on the adventures he'd faced.
"Benlan's death," Ehren grated, ignoring Unai's offering. "Tell me about Benlan's death."
Unai's reaction was totally unexpected, and completely unfeigned. "Benlan's death?" he said. "Who said I knew anything about that? Other than the fact that it happened, of course, and thankfully before I met him and not while I was supposed to meet him. Finding Benlan's killers is up to you, Guard, and I'll be a lot better off myself once you do."
Utter silence fell over the room. Ehren went stiff— and, Laine thought, very dangerous.
An assumption... they'd all made the same assumption.
"Just what do you know?" Ehren asked, and that implacably hard edge was back in his voice.
"I traveled the length of the Trade Road to tell this story," Unai said. "And then before I could, just moments before I could pass this story on, Benlan was killed." His gaze bounced off each of them in turn and settled somewhere between Laine and the door. "Two generations back, one of my ancestors was a servant at Therand's court."
Ehren waited.
"Her name was Hetna," Unai said, after an uneasy moment. "She was only there a short while before she was frightened into leaving. And then she was killed— supposedly an accident. But she'd left her journal with the family, and no one else knew she'd written it."
"That's what you've got," Shette said. "You've got the journal!"
"Yes."
Ehren seemed to need a moment to take it all in. "But you've been on the run for a year. That timing is no coincidence; you're tied into Benlan's death."
Unai didn't deny it; he shrugged. "I may well be. The day he died, he was coming to meet me."
Ehren nodded slowly. "The official story was that he went out to inspect his favorite hunting lodge after winter. But it was never clear to those of us in the Guard if that was really true, even before the high number of escort assignments came through." He seemed to be lost in thought. After a moment he came back to the here and now, and said, "I want details."
Unai gestured with the satchel again. "Take it. It's all in here."
This time Ehren accepted the book. He set it on the bed beside Shette's feet, unopened. "After all this time, your family finally decided to let the Solvan monarch know what had happened to Hetna at Therand's court."
Unai met his gaze, uncharacteristically forthright. "I'm the first to have reading and writing since Hetna died," he said simply. "The journal survived merely as a memorial to her, and not because anyone realized it held the key to her death— or to things awry in Solvany. It took me quite a long time to work up to bringing it here. Now I wish I hadn't. Hetna is long dead, Benlan is dead, and whatever the past problems, they're long done with."
"No," Ehren murmured. "They're not."
Shette moved to her knees, kneeling in front of the wrapped journal, and running her hand over it. "What do you mean?" she asked, not looking at Ehren now that she was this close to him.
Ehren's voice came distantly, his expression lost in thought. "Unai, who knew about your meeting with Benlan?"
"I have no idea," Unai said, waving Ehren's question away with his hands. "And I'm not speculating. I paid a boy to approach him on one of the Days of Hearing, and to give him a note. Arrangements were made through the same boy. I told no one else, and the boy couldn't read."
Ehren took the journal out from under Shette's hands. "What's in here?" he asked. "What made you come so far, and risk so much?"
"Read it," Unai said bluntly. At the look on Ehren's face, he relented slightly. "Hetna was almost sure there was treachery in the court. She... did some prowling she shouldn't have. I don't understand the subtle things— the ruling structure is much different than Therand's— but there was, at the least, black market smuggling going on. Therand goods."
"That doesn't make sense," Laine said. "You're talking about the highest Levels, right? They've already got wealth— what's smuggling going to get them, besides in trouble?"
"Some people always want more," Ehren said.
Unai said sourly, "Don't ask me to justify it. All I can tell you is that someone was involved in it, and that Hetna was so frightened she wouldn't write
down details; she called the smuggled goods ML. She left the court and in short order fell in front of a runaway timber wagon. The documentation is in the journal, what there is of it. It wouldn't be half as convincing if Hetna had gone on to live a long life."
Silence fell over the small room, flickering like the candlelight against the wall. Ehren stared at the journal in his hands, Shette stared at Ehren, and Laine, for whatever reason, found his thoughts drawn to the image of a man's watching eyes. Finally Unai said, "Is that enough, then? Can I go, and the grey with me?"
"That's it," Ehren said simply.
Shette said, "Can I read it?"
Unai snorted. "It'll make little sense to you."
"I can get as much from it as you did," she shot back at him.
"When I'm done with it, perhaps," Ehren said, cutting the argument short.
"There is one thing in there that the clans have already begun to suspect on their own." Unai stood, reaching for his small bundle of belongings. "A hundred years ago, a sect of the Upper Levels wanted to find a way to nullify the Barrenlands in order to wage war. To appease them, Coirra— she was the court wizard, then, and Varien her apprentice— smuggled herself into Therand and put a curse on the firstborn of the ruling Therand clan. Hetna seems to think this was tied in with the smuggling somehow, but I don't know why. She was pretty cryptic. I do know that since the position of the T'ieran changes clans much more frequently than your monarchy, there have been quite a few blind children born in Therand in the past hundred years."
Shette gasped. "That's horrible! How could anyone do that to babies?"
"How could anyone snatch a young girl off the road to sell her for slavery?" Ehren said briefly. Shette made a face and subsided.
But Laine was thinking that smugglers would want the border kept closed— and they wouldn't want a war interfering, either. Such a curse must have seemed a perfect solution— stopping the hostilities without truly resolving them.
Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) Page 12
