Six Heirs

by Pierre Grimbert

  A shark. His eyes reminded one of a shark. Yan had only seen one once, at the end of a long fishing expedition with a group of fellow villagers. But he would never forget those cold eyes, devoid of all feeling.

  Of course, then it had only been a child’s simple interpretation, made at the sight of a dead animal. Now the shark was alive and seemed to be relishing its prey’s fear.

  “Excuse me.”

  Yan turned around as calmly as possible to avoid starting something he’d have to finish, even though he had only one desire: run away at top speed.

  He met another shark behind him.

  The second man was less than a yard behind him. He hadn’t made any more noise than the first, and was dressed the same, and had the same hungry look.

  Yan froze in terror. For just an instant, he thought he saw a flash of metal in one of the man’s hands. Then the hand disappeared in the folds of the cloak.

  Yan continued forward, calmly, without turning back around. He expected to take a dagger in the back at any moment. He led his horse in such a way as to situate it diagonally behind him. Even then, he could feel their eyes burning into the back of his neck.

  He stopped at the other side of the square, where a pub offered patio seating, calmly tied up his horse next to another, and chose a seat from where he could observe the frightening men.

  They were no longer there. Yan looked over the whole square, but in vain. He couldn’t stop himself from whipping around to make sure they weren’t sitting behind him. But the sharks had fled these waters.

  A high-pitched nasal voice made him jump in his seat. He tried as best he could to slow the beating of his heart, and realized that a woman in her fifties had been questioning him since he sat down.

  “Wine!” he answered shakily in Ithare.

  For a moment he was afraid he’d mistaken the sense of the question, but the woman nodded her head and shortly after brought him a full goblet, which Yan paid for, letting out a sigh of relief. He hated wine and had answered impulsively. However, given the recent rush of emotions, he found the drink had a particularly cheering flavor and mildness.

  He turned around again, falsely relaxed. He thought of Grigán. Did the warrior always live that way? Always watching his back?

  Would his personal experience be enough to get them out of this mess?

  He thought back to the fleeting flash of metal he saw. Beyond a doubt, it was the Züu. Had they planned to kill him?

  No, he would already be dead if that were the case...

  In his place, an heir wouldn’t have had the slightest chance.

  Yan didn’t give a margolin’s ass how they were able to distinguish between heirs and nonheirs. The important thing now was to avoid making a blunder that would cause them to change their mind.

  As his eyes scanned the crowd, he noticed that, on the whole, Loreliens weren’t any dirtier than Kauliens. So what were those four hairy apes doing guarding the gates to the city? Were they even from here?

  He had to be constantly on alert.

  He finished his goblet, stood up, and started walking toward The Wine Merchant, which the matron had indicated.

  He crossed the entire southern end of the little city, almost as far as the gate that opened onto the sea road, before arriving at his destination. He almost passed it by without noticing. Unlike The Ferry Inn, this one had only a tiny little sign.

  A beggar sat not far from the door, holding out a small cup with a few sad coins in the bottom. Yan opted not to abandon his horse in the street and, hollering through the open door, asked the innkeeper to point him toward the stable. The round, ruddy, pleasant-looking man in the door did him one better, taking charge of the horse himself and inviting Yan inside the inn so he could be taken care of.

  Yan agreed, but followed the innkeeper with his eyes until the man reached a building close by. It was possible that he would need to fetch his horse on short notice, and he wanted to know where it was stabled.

  “A small coin t’eat, sir,” the beggar asked with difficulty, in a quavering voice.

  He looked just like any other old beggar that he had come across up until now: dirty, hairy, grimy, dressed in clothes washed only by the rain.

  It was possible that this guy was working for the Züu. Or simply unfortunate...He looked more like a sickly fellow than he did a drunkard. Yan reached into his purse and tossed a coin into the little cup. Curses, the man stunk! Undoubtedly, he must have rolled in his own filth. The beggar backed away as soon as possible.

  “Thank you, sir. Thank you, thank you,” he said, effusively.

  He had hardly even glanced at the coin. Yan shrugged his shoulders and entered the inn.

  The hall was empty this early in the evening. The innkeeper rejoined him inside soon.

  “You don’t have anyone to look after horses for you?” Yan began.

  “Yes, yes I do, my older son. But it’s the Day of the Promise for him tomorrow, too. It would really be cruel of me to make him work today.”

  Yan took an immediate liking to the man. It wasn’t surprising that the heirs had stayed here. Provided that the cuisine was as good as Corenn had said.

  Yan told him he wanted to stay two nights, and paid in advance, even though he wasn’t asked. He then took advantage of the man’s obvious thirst for conversation to get some information.

  “The men at the gates? No, they’re not from here. Well, except for Nuguel, and Bertan’s son. No one knows where the others are from; perhaps the city. One thing’s for certain: they’re not the kind of people you want to associate with. They haven’t harmed anyone, for the moment at least. So no one says anything. If you want my opinion, they’re looking for someone. And I wouldn’t want to be in that someone’s place if he decided to show his face around here. Mind you, he’s probably just another good-for-nothing thief or cutthroat, the kind who wouldn’t think twice about ransacking my place. What do you think? For that matter, why do you ask? Did they give you trouble?”

  Yan took a moment to digest the whole speech. His throat felt sore just listening to the innkeeper.

  “No, no, they just made fun of me a little, that’s all. Are there a lot more of them waiting for this someone?”

  “Now, that I couldn’t say. With all the young people like yourself and their families coming in from the countryside for the Promise, there are twice as many people in the village as usual. And there’s also a sort of large family that organizes a festival here every three years, and it falls on this year. Some of them might also be part of the crowd.”

  Yan wondered if it would be suspicious to ask, but the opportunity was simply too perfect and the answer too important.

  “Have you seen any of them?”

  “You mean people from the big family?”

  “Yes, uh...”

  He desperately searched for a reason why he might be asking. He didn’t find one, and was going to change the subject when the innkeeper answered him.

  “No. Not yet. But it’s still early. Perhaps in a couple days. They always come here, you know. They nearly take up the entire inn. At the moment, the only people here are you, a couple from Lermian, and a group of five priests who only took two rooms! Can you believe it? Two rooms for five! I’m very respectful of priests, I am, so I told them, ‘If it’s a question of money, go ahead and take one room each for the same price, since they’re available.’ But they refused. Don’t you find that a little odd?”

  “Yes, very.”

  Very strange. Frightening, even. He was going to spend the night next to five Züu.

  And if he made one false move, he wouldn’t see daybreak.

  It took Yan some time before he got back to the city center. Mostly thanks to the garrulous innkeeper, who had kept him a long time by trapping him in an endless chat. Then it was the beggar’s turn, who had the nerve to demand alms from Yan again. He looked a lot less sick this time. Some people have a very strange sense of humor.

  Without his bow to defend himself, an
d without his horse to flee, Yan felt very vulnerable. All he had on him was Grigán’s borrowed dagger, to replace the knife he had given to Léti. Not the most helpful thing, but on the other hand, even with a giant sword, he didn’t see how he could get the upper hand on those seasoned assassins.

  So it was with fear in his stomach and his mind racing that Yan arrived at the location where they were preparing the festival. A detailed examination revealed that not a single Zü was there, or more accurately, none were visible. Yan wondered which was better.

  The workday coming to an end, more and more people gathered around the plaza. Apparently, the Loreliens celebrated the Promise on its eve as well. He noticed that a good number of young people—his exact age, actually—waited around excitedly, in any places their elders left to them. They were all grouped together, but always of the same gender: boys with boys, girls with girls. Yan casually leaned against a wall, next to two young Loreliens who completely ignored him, captivated as they were by the fairer sex adorned in their finest regalia.

  As for Yan, he scrutinized the foreigners. Maybe some of them were heirs? Others working on the Züu’s dark plans? Who was who?

  Léti, Corenn, and Grigán had done their best to describe some of their friends, but the list grew rapidly, and it didn’t take long for Yan to jumble up all of their descriptions. Besides, his companions had warned him about the reliability of their own memories. Even more so because all the details came from three-year-old memories, so they couldn’t rely on them, anyway.

  He realized with dread that the beggar from the inn was watching him, and must have been for a while. Did he just avoid making eye contact? Was he following him?

  Yan told himself he had better steer clear of the squalid character during his stay in Berce. To protect his purse, if nothing else.

  “Hello.”

  Two young blonde girls, standing quietly in front of him with their hands on their hips, were smiling insistently at him. He blushed up to his ears when he saw them. They wore skirts that were much shorter than was permitted in Kaul.

  “Uhh, hello,” he answered lamely.

  “Is it true you come from Kaul?” the taller one asked innocently, a smile still plastered on her face.

  Yan frowned. Could they see it on his face or what? If he couldn’t even pass through unnoticed by two village girls, it was useless to try to trick his enemies!

  “How did you know, miladies?” he couldn’t keep from sounding formal.

  “My uncle told me. He hangs out with Nuguel’s cousins and they saw you at the Lorelien gate today. Nuguel told all of his friends about you coming for the Promise, to give them a laugh.”

  Seeing Yan’s face turn pale, she quickly added, “But I don’t think it’s funny. I think it’s charming.”

  Yan turned an even brighter shade of red. Completely stupid, he was completely stupid.

  “Oh. Really?” was his only answer.

  She persisted, “Kauliens are so romantic. Is it true you don’t let your wives work? That you prefer to give them everything?”

  Yan gave a strangled hiccup. Was she messing with him? Or did the rest of the world actually say such things about Kauliens?

  “That’s a bit exaggerated...” Yan began.

  “Any way you look at it, it must be better than here. All the men I know are just fishermen without any real future, who only want to marry so they can make babies. As for me, I want to experience a real love story. I would really, I mean really, like to be promised to a Kaulien...”

  The minx winked at him, making her desires even more obvious, before she turned her back and walked away with her silent friend. Yan watched them walk away like they were dancing on an imaginary tightrope.

  He didn’t have any worries about the enterprising Lorelien girl’s future. How would Léti have taken this? He didn’t have the slightest idea. He’d like to imagine that she would be jealous. But that would have ended with a fight, either verbal or physical, between the two women. Léti wasn’t the type to just let things like that go.

  A clamor pulled him out of his musings. A few members of the crowd were pointing in one direction, where Yan turned his gaze. Two or three leagues outside town, from a very distinct spot in the surrounding hills, something was sending up flashes of light.

  A group of ten horsemen pushed themselves through the crowd toward the gates. Fear rising in his chest, Yan recognized at least three Züu in the party; the others were only scoundrels like those guarding the gates.

  The assassins had reacted very quickly. If the man who had made the signals was an heir, he didn’t have much chance of escaping, unless he fled immediately.

  Maybe Yan could warn him, if he hopped in the saddle. But he would have to pass the others without being seen. He wasn’t a good enough horseman for that. Also, he would have to first make it back to the inn, which would slow him down even more.

  But surely there was something he could do. He had to do something. He knew it was important.

  He grabbed a clump of dirt and vigorously rubbed it on his cheeks. Now dirtied up, he ran across a good number of streets before stumbling upon the type of vendor he needed. Feigning anger, Yan cursed himself for his clumsiness at getting himself so grimy on such an important day. The merchant laughed at the poor young man’s misfortune, and sold him a glass mirror so that he could clean himself up.

  As soon as he left, Yan began looking for a suitable location for his plan. He soon found it in the form of an abandoned house, which he entered through a window after first assuring himself that no one was watching—looking out specifically for the beggar from the inn.

  His heart threatened to beat through his chest. He was really in danger now. Even if the least dangerous of his enemies saw him, that would be the end.

  He climbed along the banister of an unsteady and fractured stairway, trying to avoid the steps, which were in an even worse state than the handrails. Then he cautiously climbed a rotten ladder before opening a trapdoor covered in dust.

  He finally was on top of the house, panting and breathless, his temples pounding. Someone was still making light signals, ignorant of the danger galloping toward him. Yan lifted the mirror as high as possible and twisted it around in every direction. Would that be enough to send the rays of the sun so far?

  Would he get himself caught and die today?

  On the hillside, the flashes disappeared. Then there were three short ones, like three knocks at a door. They were the last ones.

  Yan stopped moving his mirror. That must have been a response. He had succeeded!

  A huge smile bloomed on his face. He had succeeded at something, maybe saved a life, maybe only given a little bit of hope to the man at the other end of the signals. An heir...definitely an heir.

  Hopefully this idiot wouldn’t get the idea to come all the way to Berce now.

  He chased this dark idea out of his head; he needed to worry about his own well-being. After cleaning his face, he wrapped the mirror in a piece of fabric he found in the house and threw the whole package onto a roof two houses over. He proceeded with an acrobatic descent along the exterior wall, worried about exposing himself by passing through the house again.

  He who makes himself a sheep will be eaten by the wolf...He never would have believed himself capable of such things!

  Did Grigán really live like this all the time? Yan asked himself again, jumping to the ground.

  By the time the horsemen returned it was late in the evening and the festival was already well under way. To Yan’s relief, he noticed they didn’t bring back any bodies or prisoners with them. Nor did they have the proud and arrogant look of victors. Fortunately, the stranger had gotten away.

  He shot only a fleeting glance at the three “priests,” afraid that a longer look would draw their attention. But it was long enough for one of them to meet his eyes. Again, Yan was frozen in terror at seeing those predatory eyes. Luckily, the Zü continued on his way, observing everyone indifferently.

&nbs
p; Was he the only one who was scared? The others must not have noticed. He wondered how the locals would react if they found out a group of murderous Züu had taken root in their own village. Surely the town would be deserted the following deciday.

  The horsemen separated, the three assassins heading for The Wine Merchant. Yan made up his mind to follow them, desperate to gather any additional information for the night. There was little chance that the people reveling in drink, those dancing to airs played on vigolas and moon lutes, and especially those who were courting would be of any interest to Grigán. On top of that, the young Lorelienne who had approached him earlier wouldn’t stop signaling to him; it was obvious that before long she would come up to talk to him again. Maybe even suggest a dance! It was best to avoid another embarrassment.

  He gave a limp wave in response to one of her gestures, and then took advantage of a surge in the crowd to slip away unnoticed. It was hardly civilized, sure, but he couldn’t find a better solution. And since others might have had their eyes on him...

  He briskly walked back to the inn. Away from the large fireplace in the square, the night became bitterly cold.

  No meal had been served at the festival. Tortured by hunger, Yan had eaten bread and forcemeat at the inn. He now congratulated himself. If he had to dine alone with the Züu as tablemates at the inn, he wouldn’t have been able to swallow a bite.

  He soon reached his destination. The beggar was no longer sitting across from the entrance. Several times throughout the evening, Yan had thought he’d caught a glimpse of him in various places around the festivities. He was happy not to run into him again.

  With a quick glance in through the window, Yan made sure the inn was empty. He pushed open the door, which had the immediate effect of summoning the innkeeper, who without delay tried unsuccessfully to strike up a conversation. Yan simply took the candleholder he handed to him, politely wished him a good night, and fled upstairs. He couldn’t handle another deciday of ceaseless babble.

  He silently walked past the two rooms where the Züu were staying, the two rooms closest to the staircase, situated across from one another. The tireless host had pointed them out earlier in the day, after showing him his room. The priests had insisted on staying in these rooms: a most strategic placement, Yan noticed. No one could go up or down without them knowing.