by Stephen Wolf
She didn’t want to think about her childhood right then, so she pushed the thoughts away and checked on the horses. They had calmed down greatly but were still skittish when she first approached. She laid a soothing hand on her mare and stroked the soft mane while crooning softly. It didn’t take long, but the horse regarded her carefully, then neighed gently in response. The mare seemed like a leader, for the other two horses also stopped fidgeting once Kitalla’s mare relaxed.
She didn’t consider herself particularly good with horses, but she’d had experiences with them too, back at the manor. Usually, it was shoveling out the stalls and bringing feed, but once in a while she was allowed to ride one.
Kitalla stopped herself again and stepped away from the horses. She found herself fidgeting with the necklace she had claimed in Kaison, and she couldn’t decide why she had taken it in the first place. Perhaps it was habit from working with Poltor, but it felt deeper than that, like a tucked away memory of a gift bestowed upon her by—
She knew how to stop the reminiscing, she decided. Kitalla looked out in the distance for signs of pursuit, grateful not to see any, and then stepped a little farther into the grove of trees, seeking some wildlife that could serve as food. Her hunt kept her occupied long enough to clear her mind fully. She didn’t particularly like squirret meat, but it was a small copse, and they didn’t have many options. She shook Dariak awake.
“Hey, mage, how about a little help with a fire here?” She nudged him toward a small pile of twigs she had already established.
He looked like he was in massive pain. His face was creased tightly, and his eyes were half-closed, and not solely from exhaustion. He murmured a few words and twisted his hands upward into the air, and a small flame flickered to life among the twigs. Kitalla had hoped for more, but she didn’t say anything.
Gabrion awoke with the crackling of the fire. “Are you mad?”
“You like asking me that,” she retorted, setting the skinned squirrets on the fire.
“They’re going to see the fire and come right for us.”
“True,” she agreed. “But you must have noticed that the sky is lightening up, and they’re going to find our trail easily enough anyway. Might as well have some food, right?”
“Hang on,” Dariak interrupted, and Gabrion turned to the mage, glad that he was in agreement against this foolhardy plan. The mage reached into a pocket and handed some leaves to Kitalla. “Season them, please.”
Kitalla chuckled at the look of betrayal on Gabrion’s face, but then he caved in and helped with the food. It wasn’t a great breakfast, but it satisfied their hunger. An hour later, they continued to the north, reaching the settlement of Warringer by nightfall.
Chapter 14
Respite in Warringer
The village of Warringer came into view as a quaint town nestled among the hills. Torches lit up various homes and roads all along the way, and there was a welcoming tone to the entire entranceway into the town. Dariak and Gabrion were eager to find the inn and take a proper meal and rest, for three days on prison fare followed by a hard day’s ride on horseback didn’t do well for their strength. Kitalla had been to Warringer in the past, and so she guided them swiftly to the tavern, which was, thankfully, not far from the entrance. They tethered their horses alongside the inn and went inside.
Dariak looked around expectantly for Randler but then shook his head for the thought. It would be too much to hope for, finding the bard so readily. He walked over to the tavern master and ordered three plates of food and drinks, then requested lodging for the night.
The tavern itself was rather quiet. Only a few other patrons were there, and several were just enjoying a hearty ale before heading home to their families. The mage earned a few scowls from the patrons as he joined his companions at the table they had selected away from everyone else, but he pretended he hadn’t seen the angered looks.
Gabrion, however, had noticed. “That must be hard.”
Dariak sat in the chair and agreed. “Yes, it could use a cushion.”
The warrior gave him a look. “No, I mean everyone staring at you like you’re some sort of criminal all the time.”
“Aren’t I?” Then he shrugged. “It goes with the territory. Literally. It isn’t like this in Hathreneir. Well, some places, yes, but mostly we’re just as welcomed as anyone else.”
Kitalla sighed wistfully. “I wonder if there’s a kingdom for people like me, then. Where all the happy little thieves play all nicely with one another and don’t worry about watching their backs all the time.”
“I’ve…never really faced any kind of discrimination for just being who I am,” Gabrion admitted. “Everyone in Savvron worked hard, and we all got along. But I see the way they look at you, Dariak, and I don’t really know what to say.”
The mage shrugged. “I guess I’ve always had to deal with odd looks from others, if not for being a mage, then for other things. It only bothers me when it gets me into trouble.”
They paused as the barmaid came over with their food and drink. Each platter had a well-roasted breast of chicken, nicely seasoned with garlic, thyme, pepper, and salt; a mix of vegetables on the side, with sliced carrots and potatoes drizzled in a light gravy; and two slices of bread, one of which had been dipped into a lemony sauce to complement the chicken. The drinks were the standard tavern fare of house mead, but the beverage had a rich, frothy aftertaste that tempted them to just sip and pause so they could savor the sensation.
“You know, I never rightly thanked you back there,” Kitalla said suddenly around a bite of chicken.
“Oh?” Dariak asked.
She had an odd tone in her voice, which Dariak couldn’t place. “That fireball spell was perfectly timed. I was hoping to just make a run for it when I threw the torch, but I didn’t need to. You turned my illusion into reality.”
“About that,” Gabrion jumped in. “When did you learn to do that spell?”
“The fireball spell? Years ago, why?” Dariak sipped his ale, confused by the question.
“You could have used it in Savvron and just put an end to the fighting right away. Instead, you used that fire-dart spell and just scorched things.”
“Ah.” Dariak nodded.
Kitalla turned her gaze from one to the other and made a cooing sound. “Magey has a heart, does he?”
Gabrion scowled, but Dariak laughed. The sound drew the attention of a few patrons at a nearby table.
“What have you got to laugh about, mage?” one of the drunken men yelled.
Dariak just ignored the comment, but Gabrion didn’t. “Mind your own table, and we’ll mind ours.”
The man got up and staggered over, tankard in hand. “Mages got no right to be happy.”
Kitalla decided to intervene. “Hey, fellow,” she said in a sultry tone, rising from the table. “I didn’t see you over there, or I wouldn’t have wasted my time on these two.”
The man eyed her hungrily and licked his lips expectantly. “Well, er, hello.”
Gabrion didn’t know what to do, so he just watched in awe as Kitalla poured on the charm. Her hand caressed the man’s shoulder, pressing through his tunic. “Oh, strong fellow, are you?” She walked around him, dragging her hand across his back. “With the strength of a plow horse, I would say.” She finished her circuit and pressed herself against him, gazing deeply into his unfocused eyes. “Where’s your place, fellow? I could meet you there soon as I finish my meal.”
The man stammered and snuffled deeply. “Over by the general store.”
“Well then, hurry along, friend, and get the place ready for me. And hang your shirt on the front door so I know which one it is, okay?” She batted her eyelashes a few times promisingly.
He licked his lips again and eyed her body one last time before nodding and running out of the tavern to prepare for the tryst. Kitalla waited until
he left before coughing deeply. “Reeked of cow dung, that one.”
Gabrion watched as she sat down. “You’re not…really going to—”
She stamped on his foot and scowled, then tossed a pouch on the table. “You’re an idiot. But at least he was nice enough to pay for dinner by way of apology.”
Dariak choked on his mead as he started laughing. “You’re something, Kitalla.”
“Don’t you forget it,” she warned, rising again and swiping the pouch, this time to see if their rooms were ready.
Gabrion was still staring at the table where she had thrown the pouch. “I guess he deserved it after what he was winding up to do, but I don’t know about all this stealing.”
Dariak shrugged. “Then pay for your meal outright with your funds, if it makes you feel any better. As for me,” he said, yawning, “I’m heading to bed.” He turned around and saw Kitalla striding back with directions to their rooms.
They went upstairs, and Kitalla pointed to a room at the far end of the hallway, then turned into another room only halfway down. “Good night, boys.” She went inside, and they heard a bolt snick shut.
The room at the end of the hallway had two cots inside, with musty pillows and blankets. Dariak didn’t care. He locked the door and pulled off the leather jerkin he had claimed from the Kaison armor shop, and then he pulled off his robes, laying them open so they could air out somewhat. He watched Gabrion likewise undress in the moonlight, grinning at the show the warrior was inadvertently giving him.
Morning came too quickly. Groggy, the two men dressed and went down to break their fast with Kitalla. She was lively and appeared to have been waiting for them for hours. “You two do like a long sleep,” she said by way of greeting, then added in a teasing tone, “or were you two busy all night long?”
Dariak blushed, but Gabrion didn’t understand the reference. “Doing what?” he asked.
Kitalla shook her head. “You really didn’t get around much growing up, did you? Never mind!” She put a hand up as Gabrion drew in a breath to rebuke the comment. “Food’s coming anyway, and we have to figure out our next move.”
An older woman came by with their meal. “Excuse me, miss,” Dariak said in a warm voice.
“Miss?” She visibly melted. “Don’t be silly, son. What can I get you?”
“This food smells just as wonderful as last night’s meal,” he complimented her truthfully. “The only thing I wondered, though, was…Do you ever have any entertainment at mealtimes?” He ignored the piercing stare from Kitalla, who clearly wanted to know his reason for asking.
“Well, not often, I’m afraid,” the matron apologized. “There was a minstrel here some time ago who drew in quite a bit of business, but then he left abruptly. And then he reappeared a few days ago, but just ate, slept, and was gone again without so much as playing a tune. He must be in some kind of trouble, I think, the way he keeps taking off like that.”
“I see.” He debated whether he should ask his next question and decided it couldn’t hurt. “Did anyone come after him, do you know? Anyone asking about him after he passed through last time?”
She paused for a moment. “Not to my recall, but then I’m usually with the cherubs at nighttime.” She turned her head over her shoulder and called across the room. “Barin, dear, has anyone been asking about that bard?”
“Just one,” came a disembodied voice from the kitchen. “Paid extra for information, up front too. Told them he was headed east, toward Pindington.” The thick-bellied tavern master came out to join them. “What have you to do with that bard?”
“He’s a friend,” Dariak said. “He told me he was heading north but not more than that.”
“Some friend,” Barin scoffed, then looked more carefully at Dariak, scrutinizing the mage robe that he was wearing over the leather jerkin. “So tell me, mage, if you will, when you saw your friend last, did you hear him sing?”
Dariak couldn’t help smiling. “I did. He sang of the Forgotten Tribe.”
“Aye.” Barin nodded. “That’s a good one, that. Mind, I think he knows more about the story than he lets on.”
“Now, dear,” interjected his wife, “are you going to keep chatting away over their meal, or are you going to tell them anything useful?”
“Bah!” He waved her away, then turned back to Dariak after eyeing the others. “He didn’t say you’d be traveling with anyone.”
Dariak tried to keep his heart in his chest. “Did he say which way he’s going?”
“Didn’t you hear? I said I told those others where he was heading.”
“Pindington,” Dariak repeated skeptically. “But that’s not where he’s going.”
“No,” Barin agreed. “You look a little like the one he described on his way through, but I need you to confirm it.”
Kitalla reached for a dagger to speed things along, but Dariak intercepted her hand. “There isn’t much I can say about him, really. We didn’t have much time to talk. But he made the most delicious bread I’ve ever had, loaded with cinnamon, cranberries, and raisins.” He didn’t know why, but it felt like he had just revealed a secret code to the tavern master.
“You’re right about Pindington,” Barin said. “It was to throw off those hoodlums who were after him. He went ahead farther north. You’ll need to get near the Talonic River and then go west a little ways, find a rise, and then look for a cave in the hills.”
“A cave?”
“If he isn’t there, then he’ll have moved on somewhere else. That’s all I’ve got for you, I’m afraid.” He tipped his head and left them to finish their food.
Once they were alone, Kitalla raised her brow. “Love interest?”
Dariak’s cheeks reddened, and suddenly Kitalla’s earlier comment made sense to Gabrion.
“He has a shard,” the mage deflected.
The thief leaned back in her chair and put her arms behind her head. “I feel like we’re doing a lot of hunting for your pieces of crystal there, but not much else.”
“We will.”
She threw her body forward and grabbed Dariak by the scruff of his robe. “I don’t do things for promises. I’m not going any farther until I get a little something next.”
“The more pieces I have, the easier it will be—”
“Likely story, mage,” she spat, eyes darkening. They held their gazes in deep focus for a long time, while Gabrion stared at Dariak, digesting the new information about his interest in men. He’d never known anyone before who deviated from the norm in that regard. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
With a heavy sigh, Dariak succumbed to Kitalla’s will. “I will need to see you dance in force and follow the lines of energy you draw in. Then I’ll be able to determine the best route to guide your training.”
“In force?” she echoed. “So you need me not just to move, but to influence.”
“Yes.”
She banged her hand on the table. “I guess I could put the moves on this one”—she gestured to the warrior—“but he’ll be harder to entrance now that he knows about it.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
Kitalla looked around the tavern, and a grin crept upon her face. “Let’s put on some entertainment here tonight.” She looked at Gabrion. “How are you at standing still?”
Chapter 15
Kitalla the Great
The tavern master and his wife were so excited about the prospect of having entertainers that they offered free meals and boarding for each night they performed. Wisely, Kitalla said nothing about it being a solo performance. Barin ran to various spots around town to gather ingredients for food while his wife and children took Gabrion through Warringer, acting as criers. It suited Gabrion just as well, because Kitalla refused to tell him what he was going to have to do.
Dariak spent most of the day in the tavern, resting a
nd preparing for the night. Though he wasn’t going to be part of the performance, he would need to focus his concentration sharply to sense the energy flow around Kitalla as she worked in a room of rowdy patrons. In addition, he was still in pain from the vile spell that Elgris had used against him in Kaison. Sometimes parts of his body would tinge with agony for no apparent reason, yet when he read his own energy patterns, everything seemed fine. He also felt tired from the water jade’s spell that had essentially transformed him into a liquid. His only hope was that these effects would wear off soon.
Kitalla seemed to be everywhere at once. The thief was full of enthusiasm for the upcoming performance. One moment she was in the tavern, checking viewing angles, the next she was out in search of a costume. Back to her room in the tavern to practice some moves, then off again to replenish her stock of daggers. All the while, her eyes and ears were wide open, and she absorbed information and sorted it as she went.
“You’re wearing these.” She handed a pair of trousers and a leather cap to Dariak on one of her flights through the tavern. “And we’re going to smudge you up a little bit too, tie the hair up under the hat, stash the robe, a dagger or two on your hip, and…No, that should be enough,” she decided with a tilt of her head. “Go on, now.”
Even after such a short time together, Dariak knew such a demand wasn’t to be denied. Up to his room he went, where he exchanged clothes, feeling very restricted wearing pants. They had pockets but nothing like the endless folds of fabric in his robe. It took him some time walking around the room before he felt at all comfortable. Kitalla did have a keen eye, though, for they were the perfect size, and he only tied the leather cord at the waist so it wouldn’t dangle.
Once his disguise was set, he rummaged through his robe and pulled out the various spell components he would need for the night, and then he hit a snag. He had two pieces of the jade in his robe, and he didn’t want to leave them unattended. He hadn’t taken the earth jade from its sealed pouch since sewing it in at the start of his journey. He hated to take it out now, but he didn’t have a choice.
