Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and sapphires. Sure enough, the jewels looked as though they would probably fit in the empty spots Dannel had seen on the hilt of the stolen sword.
It wouldn’t have been hard to snatch the little box, pocket it, and run; or even to slit the man’s throat, empty the gems into his pocket, lock the corpse in the shop, and walk away. Yes, Dannel spotted the hilt of a dagger protruding from the man’s pocket, but from his paunch and the way he carried himself, this fellow was no warrior.
Still, I’m here for information. And that could lead to far greater profit in the long run.
“I was hoping for opals,” he complained, affecting a disappointed expression. “You don’t have any of those?”
“Not at the moment, sorry.” The man closed and locked his gem box again.
“Do you think you’ll have any in the next few days?” Dannel pressed. “Perhaps you could ask the supplier who sold you these if he has any others.”
“I don’t think that fellow will be back. I bought all he had with him.”
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask him if he has access to any opals I could buy. Could you tell me where I might find him?”
The shopkeeper, busy stowing the boxes away behind the counter again, only shrugged. “He turned left when he went out my door. That’s all I know.”
Dannel had spent the night in Daveen several times, but the town was too large, and he hadn’t explored it often enough, to keep a complete map of its layout in his head. He did know that it boasted several inns, which probably turned a decent profit in the summer but in the cold months were packed with miners and others not hardy enough to want to endure a winter in the foothills.
Back out on the street, he turned left himself, stopped a passerby, and asked, “Can you tell me what inns are out in this direction?”
“The Traveler’s Haven is the closest inn, but that’s back the other way,” the woman told him. “This way there’s the Journey’s End three or four miles down the road, or you can turn left at the corner and then right after the blacksmith’s and you’ll eventually come to the Raven’s Nest.”
“Thank you.” Dannel chose to try the Raven’s Nest first. It sounded like the closer option, and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder.
By the time he found the inn, though the sun had not yet set, the sky was dark with low, ominous clouds. A groom came running from the stable in the courtyard, but Dannel waved him off. “Don’t put my mule in there yet. I may not be staying.”
The woman at the front desk looked up with a smile when he opened the door. “Good evening, traveler. Would you like a room for the night, or just supper?”
“Neither quite yet,” Dannel told her. “I’m looking for a friend of mine who arrived in town yesterday. I think he may be staying here.”
“Well, we did have a few guests who came last night,” the woman told him, “but I don’t believe any of them are still around. Everyone here at the moment has been here two days or more, except for a family that just stopped in for supper.”
Rain was starting to fall in large drops as Dannel went back out the door and reclaimed his mule from the groom. He paused long enough to dig his waterproof jacket out of his luggage and to pull the hood as low over his face as it would go, before urging the tired animal into a canter.
Clattering down the street at that pace would normally have attracted a lot more attention than Dannel preferred, but now there were plenty of other people racing the storm home. Dannel retraced his steps to the market street and turned left to make his way toward the third inn.
Lightning streaked across the sky, the crash of thunder only a few heartbeats behind. He kicked the mule to hurry it up while rain pelted down around them. By the time he pulled up to the large brick building with the sign reading Journey’s End Inn, he was drenched from the waist down.
This time he let the groom who hurried out of the stable lead his mule away into shelter. Saddlebags under his arm, Dannel hurried up the steps and through the inn’s wide front door.
He found himself in a large lobby comfortably furnished with sofas and bearskin rugs. A stairway at the far end probably led up to the guest quarters, and by the sound of it, the dining room must be through that doorway at the right. This was a classier-looking establishment than the Raven’s Nest, probably more appealing to someone who had just acquired a lot of money.
To his left, a man who must be the innkeeper rose from behind a desk to greet him. “Good evening! Terrible weather out there, isn’t it? May I show you to a room?”
“Actually, I’d rather have supper first,” Dannel told him. “I may or may not be staying the night, depending on how long this storm lasts.” And depending on what comes of my conversation with Trayven, assuming he’s here.
“A friend and I had arranged to meet for supper tonight,” he continued. “He was supposed to have arrived yesterday, unless his travel plans changed. Do you remember if any guests who came yesterday are still around?”
“I think there are a few,” the innkeeper told him. “I don’t know any names, but I’d guess they’re probably all at supper at the moment, or will be shortly. You’re welcome to go in and look around the dining room, and I daresay you’ll enjoy one of our meals whether your friend’s there or not.”
Dannel peeled off his dripping jacket and draped it over one arm to cover the saddlebags he was carrying. No point in making himself more conspicuous.
Before entering the lamp-lit dining room, he paused and gazed through the doorway to see what he could see. The spacious room was full of the mingled aromas of roasting meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. Diners sat at small square and rectangular tables, much better for private conversations than the long ones more typical of taverns. The room was nearly full, the sound of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations competing with the fierce drumming of rain against closed shutters.
Most people were dining with friends or family, but Dannel did spot three different men eating alone at the smaller tables. None of them was facing him, but he could tell that the closest was too fat to possibly be Trayven, and another had gray hair. So, one option left.
If it’s him, he isn’t very smart, Dannel thought, making his way through the dining room toward the man. He ought to be facing the door so he’ll see if anyone’s coming in looking for him. Then again, ordinary people seldom learned to think that way, because they seldom needed to.
Dannel almost always needed to, and even when it wasn’t strictly necessary, he chose to anyway.
Though he had never officially met Trayven or exchanged words with him, Dannel had seen the servant in the palace. Not often enough to know what he looked like from the back, though. Taking a chance, he strode toward his table in the corner and around it to where an empty chair stood on the other side. I was right. Setting his jacket and bags on the floor, he seated himself matter-of-factly, placed his elbows on the table, and leaned forward. “Hello, Trayven.”
Trayven gasped, choked on a mouthful of stew, and burst into panicked coughing while Dannel sat unmoving, gazing placidly into his eyes.
“How – how did you find me? And who are you?” the man demanded when he was finally able to speak, squirming under Dannel’s direct gaze.
“Oh, I never lost you.” Dannel smiled, ignoring the second question, and watched the man’s expression shift from alarmed to unnerved.
Trayven licked his lips. “Did – did the regent send you?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Trayven’s voice was desperate. “I wasn’t going to leave him. I was going to do everything I was supposed to, even though I never wanted the assignment in the first place. I know how to live in the wilderness, but I don’t enjoy it. When I moved to Sazellia, I swore I’d never leave the city. But then I accidentally spilled wine on the regent at that banquet last year, and he’s been angry with me ever since, and I’m sure that’s why he picked me. I d
idn’t want to go, but he told me I had to, and I did. I obeyed everything he said; I swear it!”
This is interesting. “If you obeyed the regent’s orders, please explain why you’re sitting in Daveen with quite a lot of money when Korram is up in the Impassables without his sword, tent, or any of his supplies.”
Trayven paled noticeably, his mouth falling open. Probably he had been hoping that Dannel didn’t know about his recent business transactions.
A waiter came up at that moment and handed Dannel a parchment sheet listing the supper options. “What would you like to eat, sir?”
Dannel frowned at the menu. On the one hand, he was reluctant to give the terrified servant time to collect his wits and think up a good answer. But on the other, he needed to think for a moment himself. Trayven was at his mercy – an excellent place for anyone to be – and there had to be a good way to take advantage of that. Dannel was playing the situation by ear, though, and still hadn’t decided how he could best turn it to his own advantage.
If nothing else, it’s always useful to have people owe me favors. But no. There was a more immediate purpose for the man, and Dannel allowed himself a smile as it came to him. He turned to the waiter.
“I’ll take an extra-large bowl of the chicken stew with corn on the cob and mixed grain flatbread,” he announced finally. The waiter nodded and disappeared with the menu, and Dannel turned back to Trayven.
“I don’t envy you,” he said frankly. “You know what Regent Rampus is like when someone fails him.”
“But it wasn’t my fault,” protested the man, his food forgotten. “The prince sent me away. He said he didn’t want my help anymore, and he ordered me to leave. I told him I couldn’t, that the regent had said I was to stay with him the whole time, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I didn’t dare go back to the palace without him, so I came here.”
“And I suppose the prince decided he no longer needed his best sword,” Dannel suggested, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “so he gave it to you as a parting gift, along with everything else that could possibly be useful to his continued survival up in the Impassables.”
Trayven opened his mouth, shut it, and then opened it again, obviously casting about for a convincing lie. “Don’t bother,” Dannel warned. “I already know exactly what happened.”
The servant buried his face in his hands, one elbow nearly knocking his bowl off the table. “I’m doomed.” At least he was smart enough not to jump up and try to flee. As though eager to get it off his chest now that he could no longer hide the truth, Trayven went on. “I knew I could never go back to Sazellia, or Rampus would have my head for leaving Korram. But everything I owned was there. All I could think to do was start over, begin a whole new life somewhere else, some town at the other end of the kingdom where he wouldn’t find me. And for that, I needed money.” He sighed. “I’m doomed,” he moaned again.
“You probably are,” Dannel agreed pleasantly. “Especially considering what happened to the last person who failed in a task the regent assigned him.”
The man glanced up. “What happened?”
“Oh, Rampus had him strung up by his thumbs in the dungeon for a fortnight and then ordered the executioner to cut him to pieces a little at a time. He bled to death quite painfully, judging by his screams.”
Trayven’s face grew even paler, if that was possible. “I’ve never heard that story before.”
Of course not; I made it up just now. “Of course not; it happened right after you and the prince had left. But don’t worry, the regent was in a foul temper at the time. You never know; he might be in a better one the day he learns of your crime. One can always hope.”
Trayven buried his face in his hands again with another moan. Dannel waited a moment to be sure the man was picturing his probable fate in sufficiently vivid detail. Finally he said quietly, “Then again, there may be an alternative.”
Trayven looked up, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t join you for supper just to inform you that I’ll be dragging you back to Rampus to pay for your crimes. At least – that isn’t your only option.”
Dannel let Trayven think about this while he accepted the plate and bowl the waiter placed before him. He started in on his stew, taking his time so the servant could wait and wonder.
“So – what other option is there?” Trayven prompted at last, unable to control his impatience.
Dannel finished chewing, swallowed, set down his spoon, and regarded his companion thoughtfully. “If you did the regent a great service, he would forgive you for failing in your mission. Yes, and even for robbing Prince Korram for your own gain.”
“What kind of service would be great enough for that?” Trayven looked doubtful.
“He’s been searching for someone qualified to do this, but so far he hasn’t found the right person. Since you grew up near the mountains, though, and you know your way around the foothills, I think you could probably manage the task for him. It’s the only way I can imagine that you could escape the dungeon and probably a very painful execution for your crimes.”
Dannel spread butter on his bread and took a bite, watching out of the corner of his eye as Trayven trembled. “I’ll do whatever he wants. Anything’s got to be better than living out here and wondering every day if his soldiers are coming looking for me.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t send soldiers for a job like that. They’re much too conspicuous.” Dannel kept his voice light, conversational. “That’s what he has me for: to bring people in who think they can hide from him. He won’t be happy with me, either, if I come back without you. But he’ll forgive both of us if I tell him I’ve finally found someone who can do what he’s been wanting.”
“So what has he been wanting?” Trayven prompted. “Like I said, I’ll do anything I can.”
“Even if it involves travel through the wilderness? You said you don’t enjoy that.”
“I enjoy it better than I’d enjoy being executed.”
Setting his bread down again, Dannel glanced around for dramatic effect, even though he knew no one at the other tables could overhear them. He lowered his voice, and Trayven leaned forward eagerly.
“You’d have to travel deep into the foothills, probably even up into the lower slopes of the mountains themselves. The regent wants someone to scout around in the south and southeast and find a cave in a place where people would never think to look. It has to be big enough for at least one person to live in comfortably, and of course there must be fresh water and lots of game nearby, and trees for firewood. It should be no closer than about a day’s walk from the nearest human settlement, but not much further than that either, so there would be access to supplies.”
Trayven was staring at him from across the table. “Why in the world would Regent Rampus want a cave?”
“Well, we all hope he’ll never have to use it.” Dannel glanced around again. “But the truth is, his advisors have warned him that he may be in danger – if not now, then soon.”
“From Prince Korram.” Perhaps Trayven was a little smarter than he seemed.
“I’m afraid so. This army that the prince has traveled into the Impassables to recruit – do you really think he means to use it to help strengthen the border against Alasia? Our own army can do that perfectly well. No, we fear that the headstrong young prince means to gain his own following and try to overthrow our kingdom’s legal ruler.” Dannel fixed Trayven with a stern and serious look. “If you had stayed with him and fulfilled your mission, your information could have helped prevent that. The regent would have been able to take steps to keep the peace and prevent the sort of bloody uprising that would result from any drastic actions on the prince’s part. That service to our kingdom is the whole reason why he entrusted the mission to you.”
Trayven hung his head. “I didn’t know all that. The regent is going to be even angrier than I thought. But I tried; I really did.”
“Since you failed,” Da
nnel went on, ignoring him, “you can at least partially make up for it by serving him in this way now. If Malorn does indeed erupt in civil war, our esteemed leader’s life will be in grave danger. He wouldn’t leave his government responsibilities in any but the most drastic of circumstances, but it would be wise to prepare for those circumstances just in case. That is why he needs a place of safety, a refuge that he can retreat to for a time if the danger warrants it.”
Trayven was nodding eagerly. “I understand. I’m sure I can do it. Caves aren’t uncommon; I’m certain I can find one in a place like what you described. I still have one of the mules, so first thing in the morning I’ll head out and start looking.”
“Good.” Dannel leaned across the table again and fixed him with another solemn right-in-the-eyes stare. “But don’t think that you can disappear and go into hiding yourself. It was easy for me to find you this time. It will be just as easy next time. You aren't the first criminal I’ve tracked down, but you are the first to be given a chance to redeem yourself. If you waste that opportunity, you won’t get another.”
“I won’t waste it.” Trayven was earnest too. “Every night since Korram sent me away, I’ve dreamed of him or Rampus finding me. If you’re sure this will make things all right between me and the regent, I’ll do whatever I need to. Life on the run isn’t for me.”
Dannel favored the man with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. The regent will be gracious if you succeed in this. But I have other missions to perform for him too, so I can’t wait around here for you to report back. You’ll have to come to Sazellia to let me know when you’ve found the right place.”
Trayven looked worried again. “To the palace?”
“No, we’ll meet somewhere else. Do you know the tavern called the Rusty Flagon at the southwest end of town?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then meet me there in, say, three weeks, to report on your progress. If I’m not there, it will mean I’m on another mission, but come back every night and I’ll meet you as soon as I can. You’d better not keep me waiting, though. If I come in three weeks and you don’t show up, I’ll assume you’re trying to hide, and my next mission will be to find you and drag you back to the regent.”
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 13
