Traven crossed the barren storeroom and looked down at the dead child. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The girl had been badly mutilated.
“The killer has sent me the finger and the ear already... I had hoped they kept her alive, but I was too late.”
The Hero’s shoulders straightened. “Do you think me party to this?”
“I received the finger at last night’s meeting.”
Traven’s shoulders relaxed but not too much. There was still a murderer to bring to justice. “Do you have any suspects?”
“Would I have involved you if I had?”
Excellent point. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Read this.” The parchment was well-worn, written in blood, and crumbled at the slightest touch. It was vile in its demands.
“Someone certainly wants you dead,” the Commander commented, quite unnecessarily. “I had hoped you might have some idea who would loathe you upon sight.”
Traven shook his head. “I think this murderer would be wiser than to blurt out their intentions.”
“I agree. I was thinking it more likely someone currying your favor, prying you for information?”
“Hammond’s butler has been friendly, he arises from a region near my home.”
“So he might have known your identity before it was revealed last night?”
The Hero remembered the butler’s questions. “Yes, he said there was a rumor I was from Mount Shrine. I did not think to ask him how he knew.”
The Commander gently laid a cloak over the child’s form. “Anyone else?”
“Last night, Hammond seemed quite insistent that his daughter sit to my right at tea.”
“Aye. The Guild Master has been asking if you are devoted to any maiden. I think he seeks a union.”
Traven was definitely not surprised by this news. The Guild Master would not be the first merchant to try and snare him with a beautiful daughter. “I am not promised to any maiden, but neither do I wish to be.”
Rising from the girl’s side, the Commander motioned Traven to the far side of the room. Rats scurried about the corners, and strange noises drifted from the rafters.
“If you would, play along. He is a powerful influence in this town. If he thought you interested in Viola, he might have more incentive to protect your neck.”
“Do you have incentive?” Traven asked before he thought of what he said. This was the garrison Commander. Not some comrade at a pub.
Instead of flaring with anger, the Commander contemplated for a moment before he answered. “You are not safe here, Hero.”
Traven stiffened. “Do you suggest I take my chances out on the Plains?”
“I’m saying you should go about your day as normal. Attend the tea, go to dinner at the banker’s home, but be prepared for an early departure, under the cover of night.” The Commander paused and seemed reluctant to speak his next words. “I will have need to report it as an escape, mind you.”
“This night?”
“Aye. I do not need two bodies to bury in this damnable frozen ground.” The Commander put on a helmet resembling Traven’s and led him out.
“You’re taking me back?”
“The less any one person knows of our actions, the better.”
The logic was obvious, but something nagged at Traven. “I thought you were committed to neutrality. Why are you helping me?”
The Commander did not seem to have an easy answer to this question. He took a moment before answering. “I thought I had seen all types. One might say I was jaded by all that I had seen. But you...” The Commander turned and raised his helm. “You do not just carry the title. You embody its spirit. I have never encountered a true Hero before.” Holding out his hand, his words rung sincere. “It is a pleasure to finally met one, Traven.”
Traven did not know what to say. In the past, he had heard entire recitals extolling his virtues. The greatest kings welcomed him into their castles with all the pomp and circumstance a boy from a small farm could ever dream of. But he had never felt so proud as he did in this moment.
Thanks tangled his lips, and the dragging silence was too much to bear. “You should come to Mount Shrine. We have need of men of your caliber.”
“Nay. Inlands have more than enough of me. It is here that strong men are needed. It is here on the fringes that the true battles will be won or lost. Lives hang in the balance daily. No, I belong here.”
Traven felt the deep veracity in the Commander’s words. This truth brought out his own virtue. “When I return, I will champion your cause, Commander. We will send reinforcements.”
“And food. These people cannot fend off evil if they starve with each passing winter.”
“It is done.”
The strangest sensation tingled up his arm as shook the Commander’s hand. The vibration traveled up his arm and into his chest. Traven looked into the Commander’s eyes and found the old man as surprised at the feeling as he was.
“It is done.” The Commander repeated. His voice heavy with emotion.
Traven tried to ask what had happened, but the Commander snapped his helmet down and strode past. Hurrying to catch up, Traven shook his arm to free it of the quivering. This town was becoming stranger and stranger.
***
Crystalia stirred the huge pot. Over and over again. The smell of chutney filled the air, nearly making her gag. The bubbles that were once fast and furious were dying down to a low murmur. Could her life get much worse? She’d been imprisoned with her father the entire day, while Viola was probably sharing pastries with the Hero. It just wasn’t fair!
“Crystalia!” Pappy shouted from right behind her. “How many times have I told you not to keep the heat steady? Will you never learn?”
Crystalia felt her face go flush, and her fists clenched. She fought the urge to shout right then and there that as a matter of fact, she would never learn because she didn’t care. Instead she stood in complete subservience, mumbling her apologies. Since her mother had died, a day didn’t go by without a berating in some form or another. But as quickly as her father’s anger had risen, it blew itself out, leaving only an old man, frowning over a pot. He handed back the spoon.
“Now stir. I’ll stoke the fire.”
Obediently, she took the handle and began the ritual again. She sighed so deeply that the effort shook her thin frame. Her place was not here. Could her father not understand? Did he want nothing but drudgery for his only daughter? How many years had she searched the horizon for a sparkling knight to sweep her from this dingy trading town? And now one had ridden in and stolen her heart away.
“Stir!” her father bellowed.
Crystalia cringed but brightened when she saw Viola running down the street, her golden curls bouncing with joy. A silky scarf blew behind her like a colorful train. Her friend was near out of breath when she entered.
“I’ll not have you interrupt her work,” Crystalia’s father grumbled.
“But Father has summoned her!” Viola said as she stomped her foot. “He wishes her present when the Hero makes his appearance. He wants everyone to give him a warm welcome.”
Surprisingly, her father offered only a gruff acceptance. “I don’t want her gone long — not like last night!”
Crystalia could not rip off her work apron fast enough. Viola silently screamed her joy behind Pappy’s back. They fled the store before her father could change his mind. Crystalia could barely wait to get out of earshot. “Have you seen the Hero this morn?
“No, but Father was able to wrangle an invitation to the Sewer’s Tea.”
“We get to see him? At a tea?”
Oh, how glorious would that be? To sit next to the great man himself?
“I’m sorry, but Father could only secure one seat…”
An ax wound could not have hurt Crystalia’s heart any worse. Despite her pout, Viola’s smile did not fade. “Do you think me heartless? I have arranged a surprise almost as exciting!”
Viola tugged Crys
talia towards the back of her house.
“Where are we going?”
“To the stables! Don’t you want to pet his stallion? Perhaps go through his pack?”
“Viola!” Crystalia scolded. It was awful and sneaky, but she had to admit the idea did have great appeal. Besides, might the Hero not also wish to visit his horse?
“How are we going to sneak past the stable boy?”
“I’ve bought us some time.”
“How?”
Viola blushed a bit, but it seemed more out of excitement than embarrassment. “With a kiss.”
“A kiss? For the stable boy? Why?”
“For you, silly. I couldn’t go to the tea with a clear conscience if I didn’t give you a bit of a treat.”
Again, Crystalia regretted her rush to judgment. Viola truly did think fondly of her. But to pay with a kiss? “How… how did it feel?”
Viola shrugged. “A bit wet and sloppy, if you must know, but he tried to touch my bosom! Can you believe it?”
“What did you do?” Crystalia asked, amazement thickening in her voice. A boy had not even given her a peck on the cheek, let alone tried to press his advantage. Again, she was so very jealous of Viola.
“I slapped his hand, then his cheek. I told him for that type of kissing I would need to see the Hero, alone!”
“You didn’t!”
Viola nodded proudly. “He said he might be able to arrange it.”
“Would you? Would you pay that price?”
Viola’s eyes danced with mischief. “Wouldn’t you?”
Crystalia pulled back from her friend. What type of harlot did Viola think she was? Allow a boy to lay his hands upon her body, just for a glimpse of the Hero? The Hero with dark hair and beautiful eyes? The Hero who had smiled at her, and only her? With the memory sharp in her mind, the price didn’t seem nearly so steep.
“Now shush. It wouldn’t do for the Keeper of the Stable to find us out,” Viola reprimanded.
Crystalia barely even breathed, let alone talked, as they snuck into the stable. The place was well-lit with lanterns, and some of the stalls had their padlocked doors open, letting in the waning daylight. Viola led them to the far end of the barn.
“Oh, just look at him! Big and handsome like his master!” Viola squealed.
Crystalia had to admit that her friend was right. The Hero’s dark horse was over two hands taller than any of the other horses, even the Guild Master’s own champion stallion. The beauty of the warhorse brought tears to Crystalia’s eyes. He truly was as grand as his rider. The two were matched in heaven. Viola reached a hand out towards the horse, but he shied away and flared his nostrils in challenge.
Without thinking, Crystalia clucked to the horse. He came forward half a step and sniffed at her hand, nibbling a bit at the dried chutney on her sleeve. Crystalia giggled and rummaged through her pockets. Ah, there deep in the fabric, she found a few dried pieces of vegetables. They were to be seasoning for the chutney, but she didn’t think her father would mind her sharing. Actually he would mind, very greatly. He would probably chap her hide if he knew, but he never would. Crystalia put a few treats in her hand and offered them to the great beast.
The horse’s nose felt silky smooth as its lips tested the treats, then it bit into them. A grunt of appreciation followed, and he ate the rest greedily.
“It’s nice to see the folks of this town treat animals so kindly,” a voice said from behind.
Crystalia turned to find the stranger standing right behind her. She groped for words but could find none.
The Hero patted his horse’s neck warmly. “He likes anything with the taste of sugar, this one.”
Crystalia was certain she had died and was transported to the cloudy heavens.
“Ah, sir. I’ve found you,” a servant said as he hurried into the room.
The girl vaguely recognized the man as one of Viola’s butlers.
Traven stroked his horse’s long nose. “Aye. Is it already time for the tea?”
“I’m going to the tea!” Viola chirped, even high-pitched for her.
“Yes. The carriage awaits you both.”
Traven made a sweeping motion with his arm. Despite the gaiety of the gesture and the grin upon his lips, Crystalia noted there was a sadness in his eyes, a weight that had not been there the night before. “Ladies first.”
“My father… I mean…” Viola stammered so badly that Crystalia could not tell if the blonde was glowing in her status or embarrassed by it. “Only I have an invitation, Hero.”
“Well, that shall never do. How can we separate such good friends?”
Crystalia’s heart fluttered at Traven’s words, but the servant stepped forward.
“Sire, the guest list is sealed. The Matriarch would be quite perturbed if an invitation were extended to one outside the Guild.” Traven’s eyebrow shot up, so the butler hurried on. “Perhaps Crystalia can attend the church social this Sunday.”
Traven paused long enough that the girl thought she might burst with curiosity. Would the Hero be so bold as to challenge the Sewing Circle? Her lips quivered as his lips curled up again, this time into a full smile.
“Crystalia, could I ask you to do me a great honor?”
The girl could not get her lips to move, so her only response was the slightest nod of her head.
“Would you be kind enough to serve my tea?” The Hero did not even wait for her response before turning to the butler. “I’m sure the Ladies cannot argue with that.”
The servant bowed his head in deference.
“Good then. It is settled.”
To Crystalia’s surprise, the Hero took her hand in his own. He raised it to his lips as if to kiss it, but her skin was covered in splattered chutney. Crystalia was mortified, but the Hero smiled broadly and turned her hand over. There he planted the most luscious kiss. His lips barely brushed her skin, but it felt as if every nerve ending along her entire body had been tickled. Her palm throbbed where his lips had glanced, and the room began to spin. Could the heavens be any more kind? Could her life be any more perfect than it was at this moment?
***
Traven helped the two girls down from the carriage. He kept a well-practiced smile on his face, but his heart could not stop worrying over the murdered girl. He had traveled to Mount Shrine to protect the innocent, not to inadvertently cause their deaths. The entrance into the Hall was a blur. It seemed that any lady of consequence had cajoled an invitation to this tea. The room was crammed far past capacity with tables and tea sets.
As he was busy being introduced to the multitude of wives and mothers, the Hero noticed an elderly woman trying to shoo away the girl that had been so kind to Lauger. “I’m sorry, Matriarch, I did not have time to inform you. This girl will be serving me.”
Matriarch Wallrider stiffened. “I feel one of the long-standing members should be so offered.”
Traven held the older woman’s gaze. He did not know why he cared who served him, but this young woman seemed somehow familiar to him. Perhaps she had a vague resemblance to his younger sister. For whatever reason, the Hero felt more at ease around her than any he had met in this small berg.
Finally the Matriarch unfolded her hands. “But the Commander had sent word he wishes you to have a taster. Might Crystalia be suited for that task?”
The young woman blushed and nodded as they were escorted to their table. The Matriarch sat to his left, while the pretty daughter of the Guild Master sat at his right. Another blue-haired matron curtsied deeply and poured a splash of tea into a porcelain cup. Traven nodded to the young girl. With shaking hands, the brunette brought the cup to her mouth and tilted it back until a shout rose from the kitchen.
“No!”
The girl hesitated, the porcelain still pressed against her lips.
“No, child! It’s poisoned!” An older woman cried as she rushed from the kitchen.
Traven knocked the cup away and pulled the girl close. “Did you get any on your l
ips?” He quickly soaked a napkin in water and wiped her mouth. “Are you all right?”
The girl seemed stunned but answered, “I didn’t get a chance to sip any.”
Thank the gods. He would not have another girl’s death upon his hands. Traven swung around to the woman who sounded the warning. “What is the meaning of this?” Fear and anger tainted his tone. He should have known better than to relax his guard around this gaggle of women. Had the Commander not just warned him of the danger?
“You have been sent by the Dark Ones to shake our faith. To destroy our town.” The widow blathered as the room exploded in chaos. Every ounce of tea was being dumped by guests who feared for their lives.
“Who ordered you to poison my drink?”
The old woman was nearly beyond reason. “We only meant to be rid of you and your lies, not an innocent... not a young girl.”
Traven grabbed the widow by the shoulders. “Who told you to do this?”
Before she could answer, the front doors to the Hall burst open, and a raging group of priests rushed in. This was not what he needed right now. This woman may hold the key to murder of the mutilated child.
“Blasphemer!”
“Liar!”
“Apostle of Hell!”
The degradations were flung at him with much malice they made him flinch. What had he done to warrant this treatment? It was he who was almost assassinated. Traven turned and found the serving girl shaking in fear. He grabbed her hand. “Fetch the Commander.”
The girl blinked twice but did not answer.
“Now!”
Before he could be sure she would execute his orders, one of the priests hurled himself towards Traven. Throwing the rabid man off of him, the Hero drew his sword. The room rang with shouts and screams. Woman ran in every direction, knocking over tables and chairs. Traven was glad when he did not see the serving girl anywhere in the room. With any luck, she had followed his orders.
“What is your complaint? Your attack upon me is unwarranted!”
“Unwarranted? You devious bastard. We know who you are!” Cecil bellowed, waving a piece of torn parchment.
7 Folds of Winter Page 5
