Blood and Water_The Lionheart Province

by J. R. Castle

  Mother sank back into her chair and smoothed down her hair that she normally wore tied back in a tight bun. “Very good, Wilhelm. I knew I could count on you.” Her hard gaze turned toward Kardia.

  A coldness seeped into her heart. Ever since Kardia threatened to move in with the Herbalist, Mother had been more distant than usual toward her, despite her attempts to hide it in front of Dadda. Kardia remained at the Meeting Hall with her family, as Dadda requested. He’d kept his word and had been trying desperately to teach everyone more about living by Kingdom standards. Though his own knowledge on the subject was fundamental. So far, Dadda had minimal success getting people to attend.

  They held weekly meetings in the Gathering Room. At first, Miltie had been the main teacher of the King’s Letters. Eventually, Dadda was able to recall some of what he’d been taught as a lad and took turns with Miltie teaching what stories he knew.

  If only they could get their hands on a copy of the King’s Book of Letters.

  Unfortunately, only a quarter of the people came to the meetings. And the majority of them were children and a few of the elder folks. Kardia also figured the weekly meetings gave them a chance to get out of their homes and socialize. The stories and words Dadda and Miltie shared seemed to do nothing more than bounce off a brick wall and fall on the ground, unheeded.

  “Daughter,” Dadda broke into her thoughts, bringing her back to the breakfast table. “I’ve been wondering about that White Tree the Herbalist mentioned a few weeks ago. How is it faring?”

  Her slice of toasted bread had grown cold and hard. She smeared on a bit of strawberry jam that she’d made with Miltie and ate it anyway.

  “We’d hoped that it would grow stronger now that the days are longer and much warmer, but, it’s….” She held her hand a couple of feet above the table. “Not even grown to my knees.”

  Mother leaned forward, her thin brows pinching together. “We have a White Tree? Here? I thought… it was dead.”

  Dadda stared down at his plate. He’d barely touched his bread and eggs. He hardly ate much of anything lately, if she thought about it. Sometimes, she feared he was wasting away right before her eyes.

  His voice sounded ragged, as it usually did whenever he was forced to talk about the day he’d traded her to the wizard. “The trickster, as Kardia explained, made one more fruit grow. He gave her the seed. Miltie has been doing her best to coax it to grow, but she said it was too small, to begin with, and hasn’t held much hope that it’ll survive.”

  Leaning forward on her elbows, Mother said, “We only need it for show while the Regent is here. Let’s plant it in the center of the Common area. I’ll have a special spot prepared. We’ll raise it up with stone and dirt, so it’s more prominent.”

  “Asmita,” Dadda started to protest, “We do not believe it’ll thrive. It needs to remain where Miltie can—”

  “Oh, faerie fluff!” Asmita scoffed with a flick of her hand. “Dirt is dirt. That old woman can still tend to it no matter where it’s planted.”

  Kardia knew trying to convince her mother otherwise was pointless. “It’s fine. I’ll let Miltie know that you’ll have a place built for us to plant it in.”

  She’d been trying hard to keep the peace between her parents. She hated seeing Dadda always worried. Perhaps she should be angrier with him for trading her away, but he hadn’t known what he was doing at the time. And in truth, the gold had done so much good for the township…how could she selfishly complain?

  Miltie said even when the sky is cloaked in storm clouds, the sun still rises.

  Something good had to come out of all this.

  Every time Kardia began to despair over her situation, she imagined having to watch Miltie and Mr. Tillus being evicted from their homes when the Regent arrived. She envisioned him as being a large dragon with sparks shooting from his snout, or an ugly troll, stomping around and waving a large club at everyone. She hoped he’d not be as horrid as she feared.

  But usually, fearing what might happen to her friends and the beloved town was enough to lift her chin. She forced herself to keep going, keep trying, keep setting an example of what Kingdom people were like, even if she didn’t really have a clue.

  Rising from the table, Kardia began to gather the empty platters and plates so the servants wouldn’t have to do that along with all their other extra jobs today. “Do not fret, Mother. Everything will be ready. I’ll play my mandolin when the Regent comes and sing some of the songs Miltie taught me. She will tell her stories to the children during the welcoming feast. He will be impressed, I’m sure of it.”

  Mother’s brows wrinkled as sadness filled her usually stony gaze. “You are a good daughter. But really, my dear, you should leave the dishes to the servants. I pay them for their work.”

  Not enough. Kardia had caught them a time or two, collecting their left-over meals to take home to their families. Even with all their wealth, there were still some living on the outskirts of town that struggled to keep their bellies full. They were the ones willing to take any available job: cleaning out pig pens, shoveling manure from the livery, or becoming hired servants for the prominent families. None of them were paid well. Most people didn’t believe they deserved decent pay because of their station.

  Kardia had to wonder if that was how other Kingdom towns behaved. If only she was able to leave Goia to find out.

  * * * *

  Leon pulled his horse to a halt, wondering exactly what he saw on the road ahead. Blossoms from the dogwoods drifted past in the breeze like puffy snowflakes. The winter was finally over and he’d been able to get his tour underway again.

  One more stop and he could head home.

  The sound of hoof beats brought General Gailid to his side. “Looks like they sent scouts to watch for our approach. Not sure if that’s a good sign or bad.”

  Leon shook his head. “Guess we’ll find out.”

  He and his men had managed to get Tarest restored to order again. As it turned out, the wizards had indeed been interested in the enchanted gold. But the dwarfs had discovered other valuable minerals. More dwarfs had been called to come and work the mines, as they were accustomed to the labor involved and enjoyed dark places inside the earth.

  Tarest, Leon realized, was indeed worth fighting for. The land would bring forth important metals needed in the Province and the Kingdom as a whole. He was sure it wouldn’t take long before the little village to grew into a booming town.

  The next stop in Warton was uneventful. The townspeople reported that several wizards had visited on occasion, but the Prior was a strict, intolerant man who would sick his wolfish dogs on any that were not merely passing through. Though he was gracious about Leon’s visit, Prior Dormont was adamant in assuring him that they were well equipped to take care of themselves.

  Dormont refused the gifts Leon wanted to share with the town, saying they had need of nothing from the capital. Prior Dormont hadn’t even invited Leon to stay at the Meeting Hall, nor did he offer any gifts in return, as all the other townships had. Not that he expected every town to bestow gifts upon him, but Leon couldn’t help but feel Warton was too self-reliant and secluded from the rest of the Province.

  As Dormont said during their first meeting together, Warton could take care of themselves and have been doing so for a long time.

  Riyah advised that they go ahead and leave but suggested that Leon make a note of this town and return to visit at a later time.

  Leon appreciated Warton’s self-sufficiency but was bothered by how stand-offish and closed they seemed. Still, he was new in his position, and many people would most likely suspect he’d be like his father until he proved differently.

  What would he find in this next town? Another brush-off? Another stronghold they’d need to break down? He wanted desperately to return home. His poor mother. She was supposed to be in her retirement years now. Not running the Province all by herself.

  Which brought up another matter he’d not been able to solv
e. Finding a wife who would serve along with him. Someone he could trust to care for Province matters while he was away. Someone with a servant’s heart who actually cared for the people, like he did.

  Koloman had said he had several prospects lined up. But that was before his sudden departure.

  Leon had sent a warning to Mother to be on the lookout for the councilman, but her last correspondence made no mention of him. Not knowing where the man had gone troubled him greatly.

  Riyah pulled his horse closer to Leon’s, a smug grin on his face. His brilliant bluish-gray eyes danced with the merriment from a joke only he was privy to.

  That meant he had been listening in on Leon’s thoughts again. Troll’s breath.

  “Riyah—”

  “You worry too much, Leonard the Lionhearted.”

  Leon shifted on his saddle, glaring at the road ahead. “Then tell me, mind-reader, what do you think? You told me to be on the lookout. Mother told me, as well. She said the people have a harder time supporting a Regent who isn’t a family man.”

  “You can tell much about a man by how he handles his family.” Riyah’s grin remained, as he added, “There is someone special for you if you’ll not grow hasty and let opinions cloud your judgment.”

  “Does that include your opinion?” Leon asked.

  Riyah actually laughed. He was glad the Elderad was a tolerant, good-natured sort.

  “Leonard, you have the freedom to make your own choices. Which includes who you choose to listen to. I will always tell you exactly how I see things, not based on my wishes or attempts to increase my position. I know where I stand… my seat is the fourth one to the left of the King’s throne.”

  Leon straightened. He needed to remember that Riyah wasn’t another one of the council members his father had appointed, but one who personally served King Shaydon. Issah himself, appointed Riyah to aid him while he adjusted to his new position. Leon was grateful for his friendship and wisdom.

  He met the Elderad’s stern gaze. “I do respect your advice, Riyah. And I’m grateful to have you traveling with me. There’s so much I have to learn.”

  “Then trust, Son of the King, that your heart will know when you find your helpmate. Until then, focus on the task at hand. We have this last town to visit. I fear they will not see me when we enter, so try not to talk to me while they are present. I fear they’ll think you’re daft and suffered an injury to the head.”

  Leon pulled Stormbolt to a halt, gripping the stallion’s reins tightly in his hand. “If they aren’t able to see you, my fears might be warranted. Goia is no longer a Kingdom town?”

  “An untended garden tends to become overrun with weeds, indeed. But there are still a few with deep roots as there were in Tarest. Though, I fear, only a very few.”

  The wagons carrying what goods they had left drew closer. “What should I do here, Riyah? Do I need to prepare myself to make them leave?” His heart pounded at the thought, but he had to remain firm. He wished to give people a chance to change their ways, as the survivors had in Tarest, but still, many who’d pledged allegiance to the sorcerers had been driven out by the Logorians and General Gailid’s men.

  Where had they ended up? He hoped the traitors had fled Rodonal, all together, but couldn’t be sure.

  Riyah also pulled his mount to a halt. His steady gaze caused Leon’s insides to tremble out of fear he’d not like what he was about to hear.

  “What they lack is nourishment,” the Elderad finally answered, his tone low like rocks crunching beneath the wagon’s wheels. “I would suggest parting with your supply of the King’s Book of Letters that DeTierre transcribed for you. I would also suggest you not accept any gifts they might offer. Goia will look like a clean cup on the outside, but when you look closer, you’ll find dregs and dirt clinging to the inside.”

  Leon patted the horse’s snowy white mane. “Will you be able to enter?” He wasn’t sure he wished to stop if the Elderad had to remain outside the village.

  “Yes, I’ll be near. Something…Or perhaps, someone has drawn the King’s attention.” Riyah sighed, his brows creased over his sharp eyes, but he didn’t bother to elaborate. “I feel the draw, as well. So, I will be seeking…and if there’s anything you should be made aware of, I’ll let you know. Plan to stay a few days, at least.”

  “Very well, Riyah. I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind.” He sighed. “I’m hoping that we’ll not be faced with battling another band of Wizards.”

  Riyah’s lips drew into a tight line. “Not at this time, my friend. But do not grow too comfortable. The Wizards are a problem you will need to address as Regent. Eventually.”

  Hopefully later, rather than sooner. He hoped the Logorians that had hunted the retreating traitors had taken care of them, but he’d not heard such a report. His heart grew heavy with the concern of having to face them again. But as Regent, he could not allow the Sorcerers or anyone from their Order admittance onto his land. He was responsible for protecting what the King had given him.

  * * * *

  When the horseman galloped into town, it was like someone had sparked a pile of dried wood, setting it ablaze. Mother went into action, barking orders at the servants to double check that the guest accommodations were in order and the dinner table set properly.

  Asmita wanted Kardia to sit in the library, playing soft music to help set the mood, but she’d managed to slip out during all the commotion. Racing out the back door, Kardia took the long way through the woods to reach the Herbalist’s garden.

  “He’s here, Miltie. The first messenger just arrived. They should be reaching the town entrance any moment now.” Why was she so fidgety? So nervous? Everything was in place. The people had worked hard to get the town functioning again. Mother’s plan had worked beautifully.

  Miltie pushed herself to her feet, her knee joints popping. Dusting off bits of dirt and grass from her skirt, she gave a nod. “Very well. Let’s get this show started, shall we?”

  Kardia wished Miltie wouldn’t say such things, but over the past few weeks, her patience with the people of Goia had waned until she feared only a thin strand held her in place.

  “Come, girlie,” Miltie waved her trowel, motioning for Kardia to follow. “While I get cleaned up, you can take the flowers your mother requested over to the Hall. There’s no point in your skulking around in the shadows, my dear. You have nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. Remember,” she shook her finger at Kardia’s nose. “This might be our only chance to seek advice on what to do about your problem.”

  Kardia nodded. Miltie was right, this was her last chance. She’d need to figure out some way to get the Regent to speak privately with her. If her parents found out about her plan, they might hide her away in a closet. They’d not want their secret shame revealed, she was sure of that, despite Mother’s promise to ask the Regent’s advice.

  Miltie set several vases of beautiful flower arrangements on the table inside her comfy cottage. Kardia preferred being here to the drafty, vast Meeting Hall. “Take these with you. I’ll be around this evening at the welcome dinner.”

  She’d hoped Miltie would have allowed her to stay for a while, but the elderly woman filled her arms with the vases and shooed her out the front door, slamming it behind her. Kardia’s spirits sagged as she forced her feet to return home. At least she had an excuse for running off when she’d clearly heard Mother calling for her.

  Dadda had ridden off in a mule-drawn buggy to meet their guests, along with Ellis the carpenter and Andres the tavern owner.

  By the time she reached the steps of the Meeting Hall, her arm muscles burned from trying not to drop the four containers. Silvie rushed out to help, along with her brother Percy.

  “Thank you,” Kardia breathed, shaking the tingling from her arms.

  “You mother is searching for you, miss.” Silvie bowed and hurried back inside, barking orders at her younger brother in harsh whispers. The tension in the manor hung like thick smoke.

 
“There you are,” Mother’s tone was scolding. “Running off, as usual, when I need you here.”

  “I brought your flowers.” She gave as an excuse, hoping that would pacify her.

  Mother stopped in her rush toward the kitchen. Her eyes darkened into a scowl. “You’re covered in dirt. Were you running through the woods again? Look, you tracked in dirt on my…” Her fists clenched as she hollered, “Silvie, bring a bucket of water and some rags.” Pointing at Kardia, she hissed, “You, get upstairs and change into something decent. Then I want you in the library, doing what I asked. I expect you to keep your mouth shut while our guests are here and do not bring unneeded attention to yourself.”

  “But, Mother, we were supposed to ask—”

  “You let your father and I take care of the asking. We’ll have to approach the matter carefully. He cannot know we’ve made a deal with a sorcerer, or…” She shuddered. “We’ll all be cast out of Goia, is that what you want? For us to be sent to the out-lands?”

  Kardia slowly shook her head. She did not wish any trouble on her family. Or anyone else. But…she banked her fears and pushed them aside. Dadda had promised to speak with the Regent and his advisers about their problem. She would have to trust him to keep his word.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “That…” Fajer raised his clenched fist over his head, his face reddening over the news he’d received moments earlier from the Brethren’s messenger bird. “He cannot…” Fury so filled the wizard, Darnel moved behind the shelter of the nearest tree. “I will not relinquish my hold on Goia as easily as they did Tarest.”

  “Easily?” Darnel asked peering around the thick trunk. “The Regent has an Elderad traveling with him.”

  “Bah!” Fajer waved his hand and stormed away from the camp toward where the horses were tied.

  Anwynn poked a stick at the fire. “I do not understand what you two are fussing about. You’re going on like a couple of pixies who’ve lost their hive to a colony of bees. That Regent,” She waved her delicate hand, “he cares not about spending any more time than necessary in the remaining towns. Did he not even stay two days in Warton?”