Tae smiled and turned to face Matrinka. “That, my lady, depends upon what you consider an entrance.”
Through the window, Kevral surmised, though that course seemed equally difficult. Tae would still have had to work his way past guards and into the courtyard, then undertake a twelve-story climb of Béarnian-smoothed stone. Millennia ago, Béarnides had carved their castle directly from the mountainside; although many structures, such as the south tower, must have been built later. Kevral’s knowledge about climbing was paltry at best, but she guessed that anything built from the ground up and from parts had to prove simpler to scale than polished, solid stone.
Apparently tired of having his methods questioned, Tae returned to the matter at hand. “Do you still want the information?”
“Of course.” Darris broke in eagerly before Kevral could say anything more demure. Darris’ exuberance would cost them dearly. Yet Kevral realized in the next moment, it was all moot. They would get back whatever they paid Tae since they would have no choice but to kill him after he turned over the information. Otherwise, he could sell it to enemies, too. Even that train of thought bowed to one more weighty. The chances that Tae had really seen the sage’s notes were slim. Much more likely, he lied.
Matrinka discovered a specific even Kevral had not considered. “The sage’s notes are written in Béarnese.”
Tae nodded, offering no explanation until Matrinka pressed further. “You read Béarnese?”
Kevral resisted the obvious, unnecessarily insulting question about whether he could read any language. Even she did not know the obscure language that most of the king’s citizens had abandoned for the more common trading tongue. The odds that an Eastern street tough knew even a word of Béarnese seemed remote to the point of inconceivability. For now, however, Kevral played along. They could not afford to do otherwise. “How much is this going to cost?”
“Nothing,” Tae said.
It was the last thing Kevral expected to hear. “You risked your life and freedom to give us information for nothing?”
“Not entirely nothing,” Tae finally admitted.
Matrinka rose, setting Mior down on the stump. The cat dropped to its haunches, tail flicking in agitation. “What do you want?” Matrinka asked.
“When you go to find the heir, I want to come with you. Just promise I can, and all the information is yours.”
The odd request alarmed Kevral. “Why?”
Tae turned his attention to the Renshai, visibly calmer as he grew more accustomed to having to address them from different sides. “I could be useful. And I’m quiet, so I don’t think I’ll make you any more obvious.”
Kevral sighed, certain Tae knew she questioned his motivation not his advantage to them or their task. “I meant why would you want to join us?”
Tae dismissed the query. “I have my reasons.”
Kevral glared.
Tae relented. “Let’s just say I’m used to being part of a group.”
“Gang,” Kevral inserted, surmising from stories about large Western and Eastern cities.
Tae’s dark eyes latched onto Kevral. He neither admitted nor denied the assertion. “I’m not with my group anymore. Haven’t been for a while. I’ve been alone long enough, and I’m ready to join again. Yours is the first one I’ve found that isn’t either a play group or guards. And you’ve got something important to do that I can help with.”
Kevral did not buy the explanation entirely but wondered whether his reasons mattered. If he really had obtained the information they needed, they had little choice but to give in to his demand.
Ra-khir did not see it the same way. “He’s not coming with us!” He jabbed a finger at Tae.
Everyone froze, surprised by the outburst.
“And neither is he.” Ra-khir pointed at Kevral next.
That broke the tension. Though Matrinka remained politely silent, Darris snickered, and Tae laughed aloud.
Ra-khir’s face reddened at the mockery. He drew breath to reinforce his insistence. Then, apparently realizing that the laughter seemed good-natured, he said nothing.
“How long have you all been together?” Tae asked incredulously.
“Not long,” Matrinka admitted.
Darris added, still grinning. “But long enough so Ra-khir should know Kevral’s female.”
Ra-khir froze, breath still held. His eyes slowly widened as he considered the implications of that discovery.
Kevral smiled, her amusement not nearly as inoffensive. Several sarcastic comments came to mind, but she held her tongue. Living with the realization that she could, at any time, humiliate Ra-khir with stories of their meeting would torture the knight-in-training worse than words ever could. She had relished this moment and the embarrassment it would cause Ra-khir. Yet now that it had finally come, she could not explain why she felt nearly as flustered as he did.
Darris seized on Ra-khir’s silence. “We need to discuss who goes in private.”
Tae inclined his head toward an edge of the clearing far enough away so he could not overhear a quiet conversation.
“You’ll wait?” Kevral said. The idea of leaving Tae to wander away bothered her, though he showed no sign of doing so.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m trying to join you, remember?”
Kevral made no response. Clearly, Tae had come to the clearing specifically to meet with them and not under any compulsion from Darris. She doubted he would run now.
The four gathered in their private corner, Kevral alert to Tae’s actions as well as their own. The Easterner crouched and glanced around the clearing while they talked. Mior curled on the stump in a patch of sunlight.
Darris began the discussion. “What do you think about Tae?”
Ra-khir could not help answering first. “He’s not coming. I won’t travel with a thief.”
They all kept their voices low, but Matrinka’s sounded unusually soft after Ra-khir’s hostility. “We’d hate to lose you.”
Kevral bit her cheek to keep from chuckling. Darris and Ra-khir stared at the princess.
Ra-khir lowered his head, offended. “My lady, you’d choose the company of a thief over a future Knight of Erythane?”
“Not usually.” Matrinka pulled long, black hair back off her neck with one hand and held it in a ponytail. “But we need the information he’s got, and you’re not leaving me a choice.”
Though Kevral usually liked to make Ra-khir squirm, this time she rescued him from the need to back down and lose face. “Here’s how I see it. He either wants to go with us to help us or to work against us. If he’s a friend, we might as well have him along. At the least, he’s one more target for enemy weapons. If he’s an enemy, well, better to have him in sword range than at a distance.”
Darris continued along the same lines. “If he’s part of the group that’s trying to destroy Béarn, they’ll probably leave us alone so long as he’s with us. That actually makes having him along an advantage. We just need to watch what we say around him.”
Ra-khir frowned, but he did listen. “No one could breach the sage’s tower. He’s lying to send us in the wrong direction, and he wants to join us to make sure we do.”
Kevral did not bother to add the more dangerous scenario: that Tae had gathered the information and given it to Béarn’s enemies, and now planned to lead the four of them in the wrong direction.
Matrinka released her hair, tossing up her hands in disgust. “You’re all so suspicious. Maybe he just wants to become part of a group. Our group. We’re a pretty interesting bunch.”
Kevral found that possibility the least likely but did not bother to contradict. So long as she remained alert, no harm could come to Matrinka. “I hate it, but he’s got us cornered. There’s no other way to get that information. So long as he sends us toward Santagithi or the East, and we stay wary, how can it hurt to have him along?” She spoke mostly to placate the others. Once Tae told them all he knew, she had no reason not to kill him.
&nbs
p; Ra-khir snorted. “It can hurt our reputation and our honor. Just the thought of being around him for months makes me ill.” He sighed deeply. “But if you’re all set on having him join us, I won’t let you go without me to monitor him.”
“Agreed then.” Darris summarized, “If he gives us reasonable information, we take him along. We keep watch for him to double-cross us, especially when we get close to finding the heir. If he lies, we’re no worse off than before.”
They all nodded, Ra-khir grudgingly, then headed back as a group to the opposite edge of the clearing.
Tae remained where they had left him, rising from his crouch as they approached. “Well?”
Mior yawned and stretched each leg stiffly.
Darris spoke for them all. “We want the information. You can come with us once we have it.”
Tae nodded blandly. “I want to hear that from Red.” He gestured at Ra-khir.
Kevral smiled at Tae’s ingenuity. Ra-khir shifted forward and backward without obvious intention, fidgeting. Darris’ mouth fell open then closed to a thin line of offense. “You don’t trust my word?”
Tae kept his gaze centered on Ra-khir but addressed Darris. “I trust your word just fine when it’s only covering you.” He continued to stare at Ra-khir, dark brows slowly arching in anticipation.
Ra-khir sighed. “I’m sorry for my hasty hostility.” He glanced at Kevral briefly, letting her know the apology applied equally to her. “My friends believe we should bring you along, and I trust my friends’ decisions. So long as you pose no threat to us or our cause, I won’t harm you.”
Kevral almost felt sorry for Ra-khir. Admitting to poor judgment did not come easy to Knights of Erythane; apprentice knights, still uncomfortable with their own integrity, would find it most difficult of all.
Not wholly appeased yet, Tae pressed. “I’ll take that as a vow against your honor.”
Ra-khir shifted again, this time with obvious impatience. “Every word I speak and every action I take reflects on my honor.”
Tae nodded once, stiffly, to indicate he accepted that explanation.
Matrinka had waited patiently through the preliminaries but now pressed for the information for which they had bargained. “So who is the heir? And where?”
Gently, Tae pulled a scroll from his pocket, its parchment rolled on dowels from both ends. Gripping it by the handholds on one side, he offered it to Matrinka. “Read for yourself.”
Matrinka stared, accepting the scroll with shaking hands. She unrolled it from the top only slightly, correctly assuming Tae had left the readings in the proper position. “Gods,” she whispered.
Kevral naturally assumed the expletive came in response to something Matrinka read, but Darris understood. He drew to Matrinka’s side, studying the parchment over her shoulder. “That’s really them, isn’t it?”
“The sage’s notes.” Matrinka looked at Tae, innocently horrified. “You actually took the sage’s notes?”
Tae threw out his hands, palm up, to indicate such should have been obvious. “Of course. I told you I’d get you the information. How else?”
Matrinka stated what they all had assumed. “I thought you’d read them. Then just bring us the answers.”
Tae stared, incredulous. “You would have believed me?”
“No,” Kevral answered honestly, before anyone could give a more considerate response. She guessed Tae would prefer simple truth to elaborate lies intended to protect his feelings. Excitement formed a tingle in her chest. Matrinka had seen the sage’s writings before in the course of her studies. If she confirmed the handwriting on the scrolls, then it was, at worst, an astounding forgery. That Tae had chosen the proper scroll from hundreds confirmed his claim to read Béarnese.
“You’re going to have to take this back.” Matrinka’s somber tone suggested urgency, but she took the scroll with her as she reclaimed her seat on the stump. She read aloud, though so softly the others shifted closer to hear. Kevral strained to listen, unwilling to give up a position that allowed her to scan for movement in the nearby bush. Tae had once come upon them undetected. That, Kevral assured herself, would never happen again.
Unnecessarily flowery wording described King Kohleran’s youngest son, Petrostan, and his indiscretion with a female cousin named Helana. Kevral listened to a story of two exceedingly young lovers not nearly of age and their banishment from Béarn. According to the notes, they fled to a farming community called Dunwoods, outside Santagithi but within the jurisdiction of its king. The cousin bore Petrostan two sons. The elder succumbed to a plowing accident, and the father died trying to rescue him. Mother and youngest lived on, at least to the best knowledge the sage could gather; and she had remarried. The last remaining heir to Béarn’s throne was seventeen-year-old Griff, a farm child who had never seen the kingdom he might inherit.
Griff. The name seemed ridiculously plain. King Griff. Kevral held back laughter with difficulty. The seriousness of the situation precluded humor. No matter the simplicity of the name, loyalty to the Renshai charged her to see him safely to the staff-test and, eventually, hopefully, to his throne.
Matrinka rerolled the scroll with paranoid caution, as if she feared the sage might notice the tracks of her eyes across the page. “This has to go back. Exactly where you found it. As soon as possible.” She shivered. “The sage is so protective, I can’t believe you took it. He’ll notice it’s gone, if he hasn’t already. The trouble that could cause. . . .” She trailed off with a shiver of discomfort and glanced nervously at her companions.
Kevral imagined the repercussions without need for clarification. If the sage raised an alarm, it could stir panic about thieves who not only managed to violate archives never before disturbed but the very walls of Béarn’s castle. Thoughts would naturally turn to treason, though previous conversation suggested that such had already fallen into consideration. The knowledge that the papers stolen contained the very information they most wished hidden would cause a panic they would have no means of quelling. The group coming forward with their plans might help defuse the apprehension, but it would raise many other concerns.
Kevral hovered while Matrinka returned the scroll to Tae with obvious reluctance. “It’ll get back where it belongs,” Kevral said, glaring at Tae, though with only token hostility. He had gotten the information they needed and in the only manner she dared to trust.
“I’ll take it back tonight,” Tae promised.
Kevral nodded to indicate she would see that he kept his vow. As was often the case, another Renshai had already been assigned to replace her guardianship of Matrinka that night. Overseeing Tae would also give Kevral the opportunity to discover his means of breaching Béarn’s defenses undetected. That gap in security needed immediate plugging. She hoped her presence would also thwart any plans Tae might have to meet with enemies of the kingdom.
Under the tightest time constraint, Ra-khir took over. “All right, then. I’ll determine the best time for us to leave, when attention is focused elsewhere. Darris, can you work out the supplies?”
The bard’s heir nodded.
“And I can get them,” Matrinka added.
“Fine.” Ra-khir considered further. “Anyone good with towns and deciding routes?”
Kevral suspected no one but Tae had ever gone beyond the immediate vicinity of the West’s kingdom and its sister city of Erythane, yet Ra-khir had guarded his phrasing to hide that detail. Tae did not need to know any more of their weaknesses.
Darris paused long enough to let others speak first, though they did not, then launched into a comparatively awkward song, without accompanying instrumentation:
“The bard’s heir must travel
To learn the world.
True to every culture,
He spreads his word.
“He may sing of peace
Or of heroes bold;
But in every language
His stories are told.
“I have gone places
To
live and to learn,
So I can serve Béarn
When it comes my turn.
“I’ll map in my head
And determine our course,
Experience and teachings
Will serve as my source.”
Darris finished without apology for his simple tune or irregular rhyme scheme. Ra-khir nodded stiffly, relieved they were not at Tae’s mercy. “Fine,” the knight added to close the matter. Obviously, the next issue could not be so swiftly or easily handled. “We still need to leave without drawing attention. How difficult will that prove for all of you?” His words included everyone, but he studied only Matrinka and Darris.
The bard deferred to Matrinka. When she remained silent several moments, he replied first to give her time to think. “I can ascribe my leaving to learning. The bard’s heir traditionally comes and goes without warning, though I’ve rarely done so before.”
Kevral believed Darris’ song had detailed his bard’s training well enough to explain how easy rationalizing travel would prove for him. When Matrinka still did not answer, lips pursed and attention focused inward, Kevral added her piece. “I can justify going anywhere the princess goes. In fact, my people and family would expect nothing else.”
Tae added nothing. His disappearance from Béarn would go as unnoticed as his presence. Even those who had seen him would not miss him.
Ra-khir tossed in his own story, gaining Matrinka even more time for deliberation. “It’ll be more difficult than that for me. I’m not bound here, but I’ll have to suspend my training and delay my knighthood.” The pained expression on his features told Kevral that would prove more discomfort to him than hindrance to their mission. “I don’t think it would raise any wonder if, under the circumstances, I chose to leave Béarn for a while.”
Matrinka clucked sympathetically.
Hyperalert, Kevral noticed a detail even she would otherwise have missed. Tae cringed ever so slightly, as if he, too, felt some sadness for the plight of Ra-khir’s father. So the little bastard has a conscience.
Beyond Ragnarok Page 25
