If Prince Jaymin ever shows up, he may be willing to pay for my help, too. Surely the Alasian prince must have used up many of his local resources already.
Dannel guided the horse around another corner and onto a narrower street. His destination wasn’t much further. If I do help someone escape, whoever it is will probably need a place of refuge. He wasn’t sure he liked the direction that train of thought pointed, but he reminded himself that it was important to consider all available options.
He reined his horse up before the last building on the street, a one-story brick structure with peeling paint and a sagging roof, typical for this part of town. Torches flickered invitingly on either side of the closed door, fainter torchlight leaking through the cracks in the window shutters along with strains of off-key singing. A hanging sign cut in the shape of a wide cup announced the tavern’s name: The Rusty Flagon.
A man smoking a pipe was leaning against the wall in such a position as to have easy access to the weapon obviously hidden under his cloak. He eyed Dannel silently, and Dannel gave him a courteous nod as he dismounted.
At this early hour, the hitching bar out front was only half full, so there was plenty of space for Dannel to tie up his horse. He took his time strolling up to the door, staring into the torchlight all the while so his eyes would adjust and he wouldn’t have to walk in squinting.
When he was ready, Dannel turned the handle and pulled the door open, the sound of raucous singing flowing out into the night air as he did so. The Rusty Flagon was a nondescript establishment, notable neither for its appearance and cleanliness, nor for the quality of its food and drink. But there were plenty of little tables in dim corners barely touched by the light from the torches up front, where customers could carry on secretive conversations or finalize shady business dealings under cover of the music. The bartender, Dannel was nearly sure, hired people to belt out drinking songs over and over to cover the sound of any conversation guests might wish to keep private. The watchers outside, including the one Dannel had seen and others he knew must be lurking nearby, were always quick to give warning if authorities were ever spotted approaching. The proprietor never asked any questions of his guests or tried to engage them in casual conversation. As long as they paid for their drinks and left a tip to cover the cost of any damage, he didn’t bat an eyelash over the occasional unexpected mess or business deal gone violently wrong. Dannel knew; his own blood had contributed to the stains on the floor in one of the back corners many years ago.
The bartender, his strength and agility belied by the belly that hung over an apron as stained as the floor, was making his rounds of the tables with a pitcher of beer in one hand and ale in the other for refills. Dannel caught his eye, and the man hurried over to join him.
“That fellow at the table there by the left wall,” Dannel began, pointing with his eyes. “Was he here last night too?” It was too dim to see a face clearly from across the room, but Dannel recognized the profile. The bartender would have seen him when he first entered and again when he ordered a drink.
“Oh, I don’t pay no attention to who’s here when,” the man was quick to assure him. “Folk can come and go from the Flagon whenever they want, and it’s none o’ my business. Besides, I got a real bad memory for faces.”
Dannel fished a silver coin from his pocket. “Try hard to remember.”
The man glanced at the coin, peered in the indicated direction, and frowned as though in thought. “You know, it’s coming back to me now. He was here last night, and the night before as well. Sat alone at that same table for a couple of hours before he finally left, and he looked kinda worried if you ask me.”
Good. Smiling, Dannel pulled out a second coin and handed them both to the man. “Bring me a pint of ale, and keep the change.” He wove his way around the tables toward the left side of the room, his shoes sticking slightly with each step.
Trayven looked up as he approached. “There you are! I’ve been here the last two nights, just like I was supposed to, and I waited and waited, but you never came. I was hoping you weren’t going to track me down like you said you would if I didn’t show up.”
Dannel shooed him out of the seat against the wall and sat in it himself so he could keep an eye on the rest of the room. “I know you were here on time,” he assured Trayven as the worried servant took the other chair. “My sources all inform me you’ve been doing as you were told. Unfortunately, I was delayed by another job.” He leaned forward. “So, last time you told me you had finally found what you think is the perfect cave. Did you go back and stock it, as I said to?”
“Oh, yes.” Trayven nodded earnestly. “I cleaned it out and bought everything you wanted and stored it all in there.” He numbered the items off on his fingers as he recalled them. “Blankets, knives, a bow and arrows, hatchet, spade, fishing gear, flint and steel, tin pail, and wooden boxes for storage. I even chopped up a big supply of firewood already and stacked it inside by the entrance.”
He beamed expectantly, waiting for praise, so Dannel smiled in response. “Excellent. The regent will be quite pleased.”
“And he will repay me for everything I had to buy? The total came to quite a bit.”
Compared to the cost of Korram’s sword? I doubt it. “Of course,” Dannel assured him. “As soon as he has a chance to take a look and make sure it’s all just the way he wants it.” He sighed inwardly. The time had come to tell part of the truth. “Actually, that chance might come sooner than I had thought.”
He fell silent as the bartender appeared with a mug of froth-topped ale. As soon as he had set it down and left, Trayven leaned forward once again, his voice lowered anxiously. “What do you mean? Do you think the regent is in danger?”
“I’m afraid he soon could be.” The song ended and Dannel took a sip from his mug, licking the foam from his upper lip as he waited for the singers at the front to begin their next tune. “This hideout may be necessary in the next few days.”
“Really?” Trayven looked both excited and nervous. “What exactly do you think is about to happen?”
Dannel tossed him a glance of contemptuous amusement. Do you really think I would tell you the details? “Let’s just say that you had better be prepared to lead the regent and me there by Friday or Saturday.”
“Friday or Saturday,” echoed the servant. “You mean in two or three more days?”
“It’s possible.” Depending on what Korram decides to do. Tomorrow Dannel would deliver the message Rampus had sent to the prince, assuming Korram had returned to the palace by then as rumor hinted he would. After that, Dannel might know a little more. But there was no way to be certain what would happen until Korram answered the regent’s summons – or chose not to. One way or another, things would come to a head soon.
“You’d better plan to meet us on Friday night,” Dannel told him, “and if we don’t show up, find somewhere to lie low during the day and then wait for us again the next night, and the next. If the regent doesn’t end up needing the place by then, I’ll come as soon as I can and let you know.” Or bring Korram with me instead. That would certainly come as a shock to Trayven. I’ll have to decide how to convince him he’s still helping the right person.
Dannel reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the folded map he had brought. It was Alasian-made and showed almost nothing south of the border river at the bottom, not even Sazellia. But it did show the Grenn Delta to the east, and Dannel gestured for Trayven to scoot his chair closer to take a look. The last thing he wanted was to set the map on the table, which may or may not have been cleaned since he had been here last and would doubtless leave all sorts of suspicious stains on the parchment.
“Wait for me right here,” Dannel instructed, pointing to the southern edge of the delta about a mile from the coast. “There’s enough brush in that area to provide plenty of cover.”
“You can’t mean you’re going to try to cross the delta,” protested Trayven, shocked. “There must be an
other way. You and the regent will get lost or die in the swamp!”
There was no point in dignifying that with a response. Dannel folded the map back up and returned it to his pocket. “Stay hidden until you’re sure it’s us. If anyone else should happen to see you, pretend you’re fishing or something. And don’t be surprised if there’s more than one person with me.”
He had been thinking about this for a while now. In the event that Korram prevailed, Dannel might need the help of a soldier or two to get the regent out of the prince’s clutches. He knew certain men in the Malornian army who would do anything for the right price, which Rampus would certainly find a way to pay in the end. On the other hand, I’ll probably need to dispose of the soldiers later, along with Trayven, to keep the cave a secret; so perhaps money won’t be an issue after all.
He would try to talk to a few likely individuals beforehand, just in case. It would be even better if he could convince them to pretend to defect to Korram’s side and gain the prince’s trust. And in the event that Rampus won, he ought to do the same thing with some of Korram’s troops, if he could get ahold of them in time.
New possibilities and challenges swirling in his mind, Dannel took a long, satisfying draft of the bitter ale. “So, Friday night,” he reminded his companion, setting the cup back down on the table. “Be waiting by the delta to lead us to the cave along whatever route will keep us the furthest from civilization.”
Trayven nodded and took a gulp from his own cup. “I’ll be ready. But how is the regent going to pay me if he’s fleeing for his life?”
“The same way he’s going to pay me for my part in this: later. Even if he isn’t able to access the palace treasury again, he has wealthy contacts and people who owe him money and favors all over the kingdom.” That was true, actually, and Dannel was counting on it to get what he was owed too. “A lot of them work in the gold industry, as owners or foremen of some of the larger mines. Rampus won’t have any shortage of money.”
Satisfied, Trayven leaned back and smiled in relief. The arrangements finished, Dannel drained his cup and stood up to leave. With a nod of farewell to Trayven and another one to the barkeeper, he crossed the noisy room and let himself through the front door and back out into the cold. I haven’t even seen my new hideout yet, and already I’m making arrangements to hide someone else in it. Necessary, but at the same time, how disappointing.
Well, it would be worth it in the end, and it was still preferable to letting anyone in on the secret of one of his current hideouts. Speaking of which, he would have to make sure it was sufficiently dark when he led Rampus or Korram through the swamp.
Dannel untied and mounted his horse, his mind working through the many logistical details that needed to be seen to in between delivering the message to Korram, making his next appearance in the Southern Woods, reporting to Rampus in Almar once again, and then standing by to hurry somebody to safety across the delta. Having so many irons in the fire certainly made life complicated, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The city never gets any less strange no matter how many times I see it, Ernth reflected the next afternoon as he rode up to the huge building Korram’s family lived in. There are more people here than I used to think lived in the whole world put together. None of them seemed to own goats, and he only saw a few with horses, but most of them still acted so busy. What could they possibly find to do all day down here? And why would they even choose to live in such a place when the mountains were so close? They don’t wear normal clothes or eat normal food, and they all go home to those straight hard buildings where you can’t even see the sky. How can they live like that?
“Every time I come to the city, it’s even more interesting than the time before,” Thel remarked from beside him. “People are doing so many unusual things, and there are always good smells coming from those places where they sell the food. And I’m looking forward to seeing your mother and sister, Korram. Do you think they’ll let us borrow those colorful clothes again, and bathe in warm water like last time? And use that nice-smelling stuff you rub on your skin to get the dirt off, I forget what it’s called.”
“Soap,” Korram told her as the Lowlanders who worked for him pulled one of the large gates open. “Of course they will.” He chuckled as he and Clinja led the way inside. “I’m sure everyone would prefer us to use it before they have to come close to us.”
Supper that evening was as strange as Lowlander food always was, and Ernth wished he had brought along some leftover venison from last night. He couldn’t understand why Thel seemed to enjoy the meal, or why she bothered making a renewed effort to use the silverware, carefully copying the way Korram’s mother was holding hers.
The meat they were served could have been good, except that it was covered with a strong-tasting sauce, though its flavor improved after Ernth carefully wiped his piece clean on the cloth covering the table. He avoided the foods he couldn’t identify, but fortunately there was a big bowl full of mixed chopped vegetables, and he recognized the orange ones that he liked. After a Lowlander servant had put some on all of their plates, Ernth picked through his pile. When he had eaten all the orange pieces, he rummaged through the serving bowl to find some more, and then scraped the handful of vegetables he didn’t want back into the bowl so someone else could have them.
At the end the servant brought them coffee and other hot things to drink, and something sweet and fruity to eat. At least the meal is ending well, Ernth thought, filling half his cup with the creamy white stuff that looked like milk but wasn’t before he added the dark coffee. He dumped in a little pile of that sweet powder and stirred it up, and decided as he sipped that Lowlander drinks were a lot better than Lowlander food. The fruity thing wasn’t bad, though it was so soft it fell to pieces in his hands when he picked it up to take a bite. The taste was enjoyable, but it turned unpleasantly soggy after he fished out the parts that he accidentally dropped into his cup.
Throughout the meal, Korram’s sister kept staring as though there were something wrong with him, though she was quick to avert her eyes every time he returned her gaze. Her mother, who was busy talking to Korram and Thel, cast occasional glances in Ernth’s direction too, as did the music player and every servant who entered. It was as though they all wanted to say something but didn’t think they should. Lowlanders are so rude.
After the servants had cleared away their supper things, the rest of them sat down on the soft furniture while the music player sat by the fire and strummed his instrument. The others talked about Rampus and the armies and Alasia, and Ernth tried to listen in case there was some important detail that might help him save Korram’s life later. But most of the information was neither interesting nor new, and it was easier to just let the music carry his mind along with it the way a mountain stream carried a leaf.
But the mountain stream dried up abruptly at the sound of somebody knocking on the door. The cat, curled up in the fire’s warmth beside the music player, looked up and meowed.
“Yes?” called Korram’s mother in the sudden silence. One of the servants stuck his head in.
“I beg your pardon, your Majesty. There’s a messenger from Regent Rampus here to see Prince Korram.”
Everyone looked at each other, not sure whether to be alarmed or not. “We knew someone was bound to tell him you’d returned,” Korram’s sister reminded him in a low voice.
Korram nodded. “Send him in,” he called to the servant.
The cat sat up straight as the door opened wider and another man walked in, then stopped and bent over the way Lowlanders often did around Korram’s family. “Forgive me for interrupting you, my lords and ladies,” he said timidly. “My name is Dannel, and I bring a message from the Regent in Almar.”
Dannel. Wasn’t that one of the names that other Lowlander had given Korram last time? The Lowlander who had been so scared of Ernth. Ernth smiled to himself, remembering, and Dannel noticed and shot a quick glance his way.
“What’s
the message?” Korram demanded.
Stepping forward, Dannel reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of what Ernth now knew was called parchment. He bent over again as he handed it to Korram.
Ernth saw his friend’s eyes go back and forth as he examined it. “This is what it says,” he told the rest of them.
“Your Royal Highness,
“I have just received the welcome news that you have safely returned from your expedition in the Impassables. Words cannot express my relief, and I trust you will accept my congratulations at the success of your quest.
“You will no doubt have heard of our timely conquest of Alasia, precluding a vicious attack on the part of their military. I now have wonderful news. We can expect in the next few days to win a final victory over their decimated forces. My sources inform me that the enemy is planning what they believe will be a surprise attack this Friday night on the Alasian palace which I have made my headquarters. However, I have arranged for our troops to lie in wait to ambush them and wipe them out completely. It is now my pleasure to invite you to join us by contributing to our glorious victory and the ensuing celebration I have planned.
“My messenger, Dannel, will inform you exactly where in the Southern Woods the remaining Alasian soldiers have their hidden camp. Please lead the army you have gathered through the woods on Saturday to destroy what is left of their camp along with any remaining soldiers. I will be delighted to give you a royal welcome when you arrive in Almar after that.
“Your Humble Servant,
“Regent Rampus
“A royal welcome,” Korram repeated scornfully, tossing the message aside. “I can guess what kind of welcome he has planned!” Abruptly he seemed to remember the messenger. “Thank you, Dannel. You’re dismissed for the time being, but don’t go far. I’ll send for you a little later to find out more details.”
“Yes, my Prince.” Dannel bent at the waist again and let himself out. Ernth noticed that the cat had been staring at him the whole time.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 41
