by Greg Curtis
“What?!” Aribeth stared at him.
“Just in case.” He tried to comfort her. But the way things were going it was looking likely that they would need to run – and that was where safety lay. He couldn't wait to tell Nyri! She was going to laugh herself silly! In a stern way of course!
Chapter Nineteen
Life was becoming stranger by the day, Dariya thought. Ever since the capture of the Duke nothing had been right. At first there had been a flurry of decrees put out by the King – none of which made any sense and all of which were creating an uproar in the realm. Then there were the messengers arriving almost daily, demanding to speak with Master Thyman at all hours of the day and night. Messages that the Master refused to speak of. And then there were the Fae who she was sure were up to something. She didn't know what. But she knew there were caravans travelling between their Missions and the Hallows non-stop. Far more than were needed to ferry their trade goods back and forth. Master Thyman however, refused to allow them to investigate them. He told them they had more than enough work to do patrolling the border and training the recruits.
He was right about that, she thought as she put thirty of them through their paces with their rifles. They'd never had thirty recruits before. Not at once. Not since she'd been at the outpost. And now they had sixty, so many that they had to break them into smaller groups to train them.
Her task would have been easier if they were a more disciplined group. But they weren't. They were young and a little on the rough side. They also tended to squabble like small children. Even as she was trying to show a recruit how to hold his rifle correctly for the best aim, another argument broke out, and she had to deal with that.
“Children!” She yelled at the young men as they pushed one another around. Why was it always the boys, she wondered? The girls could take orders without objection and do their assigned duties. But not the damned boys. Or maybe she was just getting old!
Her yell seemed to catch their attention. At least it made them take their eyes off one another and stare at her. Maybe even look a little guilty.
“He started it,” one of them mumbled, and then stared at his feet. The other combatant grunted something unintelligible in response.
“And do I look as though I care who started it?!” She stared at each of them in turn, secretly trying to remember their names. “I mean by the Lady, do either of you think I give a damn?!” She raised her voice a little.
“One of you started it, the other responded and you both failed your duty!” She took a deep breath. “Five circuits of the grounds and twenty push ups each, and then you may return to your class, apologise for your behaviour and return to your duty!”
“Yes Lady!”
The two of them dropped their rifles on the ground, causing Dariya to wince at the disrespect shown to their weapons, and then ran off to do their punishment. They didn't know it yet but there would be more running required for that mistake.
She knew they wouldn't be the last of the recruits to be running the grounds this morning. And she even knew what the arguments were about. As always it was the King's new decrees. Most of the recruits were from well to do families. Some were of the nobility. And maybe half of them had some relative stashed away in a private house somewhere who was gifted. It turned out there were more gifted than anyone had realised. So half the recruits were defending the fact that they had gifted relatives while the other half were busy denigrating the entire house of anyone who had even a single great aunt with the touch. Her cousin's decrees were tearing the realm apart. Not that she could ever say that openly.
“Alright now, take your positions!” She gave the rest of the class their orders as the two recruits vanished into the distance. Once she was satisfied that they were as ready as they could be she gave the command to fire.
A heartbeat later the thunder sounded, the smoke puffed and the targets rocked back a little on their stands as they were hit. But she didn't have to examine them to know that none would have holes in their bulls’ eyes. And they were only firing at targets thirty yards away! Everyone thought shooting was easy. That you just had to aim and pull the trigger. But it wasn't quite that simple. There was a lot to learn.
“Alright, eject your cartridges, reload and then sling your rifles so you can examine your targets. And do not under any circumstances allow your weapons to touch the ground!” Dariya walked along behind them as they followed her orders, checking to see that they performed their duties correctly. The last thing they needed were weapons jamming because they'd been damaged in the reloading process. These might only be practice weapons, but they still cost coin, and besides they had to learn to respect them. If a rifle jammed here, that was one thing. But out in the real world in the middle of a battle? That was something else.
For the next hour she had them continue their lessons, and for a while things seemed almost peaceful. The various arguments ended. Chatter died away. And little by little aims improved. By the end every target had at least one hole in the black bulls’ eye. That she thought, was a good session. And as she dismissed them to go to their next lessons, she was pleased with things.
But as she watched them head off to deposit their weapons in the armoury, her day unexpectedly darkened.
“Miss. Morningstar.” A man's voice came from just behind her, almost making her jump.
Dariya turned hurriedly, but she knew who it was even before she laid eyes on the man. She recognised the voice.
“Inquisitor.”
She hadn't liked the man the first time she'd met him. Now, out in the open, with even more soldiers at his back, she almost loathed him. He was an odious little man. But he was also a dangerous one. What was he doing in the outpost, she wondered? This surely wasn't somewhere he would normally come.
“It is good to see you again. And to see you training the recruits on a weekend.”
Not that good, was her thought. But she kept it to herself. And did he think they took days off?! “We train every day. How can I help you?”
“You can start by telling me about Master Walkerton.” He dropped the pretence of civility and let his tone become hard.
“What about him? I haven't seen him since he hunted down the Duke.” And then a thought struck her. “Which reminds me, we're out of the city here and don't hear all the news, but it's been a month since then. I would have expected to hear of the Duke’s execution by now.”
“King Richmond has decreed that his uncle should not be so lucky as to die quickly! I understand many of the most capable of my brothers are spending time with him.” He smiled as if that was a pleasant thing. “But enough of that. You were going to tell me of Master Walkerton. Is he dangerous?”
“Dangerous?” She was surprised by the question. It was something she hadn't really thought about for a while. But suddenly with all that was happening in the world, she had to. And she realised, the first time she had spoken to the man about him, she had failed to mention how powerful he was. Events had probably served to reveal that fact to the man. “I'm not sure he poses any great risk to anyone. He's more irritating than anything else. But while he keeps claiming he's not a wizard, I've seen him use his magic against a small army. He could be one of the most powerful wizards around.” She felt a little like a back-stabbing traitor saying it, but she was sworn to speak the truth. Besides, everything she was saying was in her reports. The Inquisitor could see them at any time he chose.
“Go on.”
“When my uncle's brigands were fleeing the Hallows, he and the Protector Nyri had them run into a trap. He took maybe thirty men down. Literally. The grass just reached up and grabbed them. It smashed them down to the ground, hard enough to break bones and held them there. Weapons exploded in their hands. And when one of them tried to run away, he had a tree swat him like a fly. The man flew through the air. I've never seen anyone take off like that.”
“But at the same time, he is held in high regard by the Fae. There is one among them, who claims him n
ot just as a favoured soul, but also as her ward. She considers herself to have a blood bond with him. And for all that she criticises him, the Protector Nyri has great respect for him too. To go against him might be to go against them.”
“So your advice would be?”
“I am a rider with the Friends of the Golden Concord. It is not my place to advise on anything outside of matters relating to the Concord. And Master Walkerton is not a part of that.”
But if she could have she would have advised him that if he were to go against the wizard he should probably prepare for things to go sideways. Because she had the horrible feeling that that was his intention.
“I see.” He stood there for a moment, considering. And then he somehow seemed to change from an ice cold Inquisitor into someone who actually had a beating heart.
“There is another matter, that the King needs answered. It is about your mother.”
“My mother is dead.” Dariya's anger suddenly bloomed. “My uncle murdered her! I buried her.” And why had that come up? She didn't want to dwell on it. She wanted to forget that it had ever happened.
“I am sorry to hear that.”
He wasn't really, she knew. He was just being polite. No one save her was truly sorry that her mother was dead. She was – or she had been – Amberlee the Wicked. That was all she would ever be. And if it hadn't been for the way her mother had died, Dariya doubted she would have mourned her either.
“But there is still a matter that needs to be addressed,” the odious little man continued. “The circlet.”
“Circlet?” Dariya didn't understand.
“The one she wore.”
“She wasn't wearing a circlet. I cleaned her face before I placed her in her grave. If she had been wearing one I would have seen it. There was no circlet on her head. No necklaces around her neck. No rings on her fingers.”
It made her think. Had someone got to her mother's body somehow? Stolen her jewellery? Dariya couldn't see how, there hadn't been any time when she wasn't with her body, but the Inquisitor was right, her mother normally did wear jewellery. And then the obvious answer hit her.
“My uncle must have it. Perhaps she gave it to him for safe keeping when they fled? Perhaps it still lies beneath the ruins of Alldrake castle.”
But what did it matter anyway? It might be worth some coin, but she had no use for wealth in her life.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure!” Dariya bristled a little. “I buried my mother at Alldrake. I know she had no jewellery on her at the time. And what does it matter anyway?!”
It mattered quite a lot, she gathered from the way the Inquisitor’s face grew grim, before he abruptly thanked her for her time and disappeared into the main building, flanked by his men at arms. So much so that she guessed her quarters were about to be searched by him. But he would find nothing there – because there was nothing to find. She had told him the truth. Her mother had not been wearing any circlet. In fact, she couldn't remember her mother ever wearing one.
Dariya tried to put the conversation out of her mind as she stood there and waited for her next group of recruits to arrive for training. She didn't want to think about that terrible day let alone burying her mother. That still brought her nightmares – and terrible confusion. But it wasn't easy to forget. And it was too late to head inside for a hot drink as she'd planned and talk with her fellow riders. The Inquisitor had wasted too much of her time for that. She would just have to suffer out in the sun for another hour. Which ironically suited her mood. Hot and bothered!
Chapter Twenty
Another day sitting at the counter with no sales and no one coming in to share in some casual conversation. This wasn't what being a merchant was supposed to be like! In fact it wasn't at all like it had been. He might as well be out of business. He hadn't had a sale in two weeks! Now it was the end of the week once more, and he was seriously wondering whether he should even bother opening his doors again when the new week arrived. He had effectively been put out of business.
Even his tradesmen had left. For a while he'd had people to talk to as they cut holes in the common wall between his two stores. But that had ended. They'd cut the holes and fashioned the archways so that his front store was now twice as large as was his first floor. The front door of the furniture shop Bradshaw had run had been closed over so that it was now simply more lead light windows. They'd even done his floors. And they'd worked as fast as they could, powered by the gold and silver he practically threw at them. But then they'd left, not wanting to be seen with a known wizard, and no one else had been interested in finishing the job, no matter how well he paid.
Which meant that he was having to do the painting himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't a good painter. Nor was he a capable mason which was why his roof garden which had also doubled in size with the joining of the two stores, had a couple of crude wooden styles which let him step over the waist high dividing wall running down the middle of it instead of being one continuous garden.
And just to complete his disappointment, the book he was reading simply wasn't very good. In fact, it was quite boring and Baen found he just couldn't concentrate on it. Perhaps he should just give up on it and return to his painting? At least it was something productive he could do.
Just then the little brass bell rang, making him look up in the faint hope of seeing a customer. It was Nyri, his usual visitor.
“Welcome.” He smiled tiredly at her. “The pages are on the printer as usual.”
“You seem … subdued.” She told him as she walked across the store. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Nothing really. Business is just a little slow as you can see.” He gestured at the empty store. “I hope yours is going a little better.”
“We are busy,” she told him. “Every Mission has customers lining up out of the doors all day long. And our caravans are full as they return to G'lorenvale. Full not just with trade goods we've procured but those of your people blessed with the gifts of the wild spirits. The river turned into a flood the minute King Richmond started hanging people.”
“Sweet Lady!” Baen felt sick. It had happened, just as he'd told his sister it would only a few weeks before. The executions. It was supposed to be of those who had used a gift against others but the reality was that most of those hung didn’t possess a magical bone in their body. Some of them were simply mad. Others had just been accused of having magic – usually by an enemy of theirs. These days an accusation was all it took. If someone didn’t like you, all they needed to do was give a report to the City Guards, accusing you of using magic to cause harm, and the Magistrate would have you swinging from the end of a rope before the end of the day. Simple. Effective. And completely brutal.
How had things come to this? That was what he didn't understand. How could King Richmond have brought this nightmare about? And why? Sure, the King had always been a muck spouting arse. But now he'd turned into something far worse. Baen knew it had to have something to do with the Duke – a man who according to the criers' silence had still not been properly hung. But what? Naturally he had no answer. He was just a bookseller in a small city.
“You should leave. Our high priests and High priestesses were right. This land is no longer safe for thanes. Your gifts need to be protected.”
“But where would I go?” It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it. And after his family had left a week before, there wasn't a lot holding him here. Just his store, which no one ever visited. And of course the fact that this was his home. Even if it had fallen into madness. But he simply refused to be driven from his home.
“To G'lorenvale of course. Caris would love to see you return. Or to Blackwood. Your family have bought a large estate right on the border. You could travel back and forth between there and G’lorenvale whenever you wished. Besides, this city is dangerous for you.”
“I'm safe enough here.” And he was – if only because he had spent weeks enchanting. Those lead light windows might look de
licate, but they could withstand the blast of a cannon. And he had a hundred other protections in place. Nothing physical threatened him, and the civil authorities had no magic to aid them.
Maybe, that was why the Fae were welcoming all those with gifts? They were taking all the magic from Grenland. Making certain that if there was a war ahead, the humans would be defenceless. It would be a smart strategy. And he couldn't exactly blame them for employing it – not after they'd been so brutally attacked. But the King should have realised that. He should have known better than to play into their hands.
“But you could just get on your machine and ride. Be free.” Unexpectedly she took a seat beside him at the back of the empty store. “This place, these books,” she gestured at the endless shelves, “are not for you. You are a thane. You bear a beautiful gift. You could be doing so much more than sitting here letting your life slip by.”
