“Ilythra.” He spoke the name aloud. She had a penchant for turning things that shouldn’t matter into small defeats. He was tired of small defeats, even though his victory was sure.
Was the healer still in the small western village? He smiled. It was time to take the offensive against Ilythra. He knew her weakness.
* * *
Ilythra examined the map by the fading light. She’d traveled nearly five days out of Siann with little sleep, stopping only long enough to rest Melior. Her eyes were gritty and her back hurt, but urgency pressed her on. Something was happening. She didn’t know what, and the thought of what it could be kept her on edge. Was Bredych moving? Teann felt like a whirlpool. She longed for Ewen’s calm focus. She shook her head and examined the lay of the land on the parchment. The map was old, from the libraries in Siann, but the land hadn’t changed nearly so much as the people had. There were cities where the map detailed only open plain and forest.
She was unfamiliar with the traders in the northern plains but she knew they gossiped among themselves. Even though it’d had been over three years since she’d traveled with any band of traders, they should remember her. She hoped.
A river roared in the distance. She whistled for Melior, who thundered close. A brief stop at a tavern in Bern listening to gossip afforded her the knowledge that the traders had left only a few days before on their way to Kaith. Trader caravans were not known for their speed. She should catch up with them soon. A dark column of smoke rose between the trees in the distance. Ilythra smiled. Tonight. She only hoped these traders weren’t so dogmatic about their creed that they couldn’t see reason.
* * *
She heard the traders long before she saw them. Ilythra rolled her eyes. Defense was not a trader’s strongest skill. She dismounted, making sure to create enough noise to alert even traders to her presence. By the time she saw flames flicker through the trees, she sensed a man approaching on her right and another on her left. If they stuck true to form, there would be a third guarding their merchandise and at least two others.
She purposefully stepped on a branch. The loud crack echoed in the suddenly still night.
“Who goes there?” a man’s voice called.
“My name is Ilythra. May I share your fire?”
There was a brief pause.
She sensed the men on either side of her draw closer. “There is a story I’d like to share.”
“Be welcome, Ilythra,” the voice answered.
She stepped into the clearing. Flames lit a small circle, revealing two men sitting on logs and a third in the shadows. Firelight licked at the drawn sword in his hand. Dropping Melior’s reins, she moved toward the flames and extended her hands to their warmth. “I am alone.”
“And we’ll make sure of that,” one of the men assured her with no animosity in his voice.
Ilythra sat quietly.
“If’n she’s not alone, they’re so far away or good at hidin’ I can’t find ‘em.” A man stepped into the clearing. Another man followed and shrugged his agreement.
“Forgive me.” The first man turned to Ilythra. “Times being what they are, even a trader’s got to be extra careful.”
Ilythra breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they would listen to reason.
“I’m Bando, this is Shem.” He waved to the man sitting next to him. “That’s Ladrius, Jona, Parin.” He pointed to each man in turn.
“I knew a Ladrius who had a route down south,” Ilythra said.
“You is that Ilythra!” Bando said. “I’d wondered. It’s not a common name, you know.”
She shrugged. Ilythra meant wanderer in Siobani. As far as she knew, she was the only one.
“Welcome, welcome.” Bando stood and rubbed his hands together. “We ain’t got much in way of vittles but you’re welcome to share.”
“Thank you.” She accepted a bowl of stew and picked out a piece of meat, chewing it thoroughly. She could vividly remember Zeynel, her mentor, once telling her to never ask what was in a trader’s stew. It was good advice now too.
The traders, save for Parin, who stayed close to the merchandise, sat across from the fire. Expectancy shone from their eyes.
Ilythra took a deep breath. “There was once a peddler who found a rare and precious treasure. A treasure out of myth. On his deathbed, he entrusted the treasure to his daughter with the instructions to find two other keepers who held similar treasure because the treasures must be united.
“When she came of age, the daughter set out across the land, only to find one was lost to legend—its keeper believed the wisest thing to do was to hide and protect the treasure—and another had been changed by the power of this treasure. The stronger and more powerful he became, the more he believed that he’d been given the treasure because he and he alone could rule all the people and enforce his peace, but at any cost.” She paused and glanced at the traders. They were still listening intently, but she noticed one or two had begun to look thoughtful.
“The woman found the keeper of the second treasure and almost succumbed to his will. She escaped with the aid of an unlikely source. She had befriended the Benai.” She paused and smiled. She could still picture Mohan’s twinkling blue eyes and ready smile. She missed his sardonic wit and easy charm. Would she see him again? The smile faltered. That was one more reason to defeat Bredych. She turned her attention back to the traders. “These Benai knew where the third treasure was hidden, and the woman raced across the land with the second keeper close on her heels. She made it to hidden lands, found the third keeper, and together they agreed to retrieve the other treasure. Only the second keeper was crafty and escaped and now he is more powerful than ever. He seeks to rule and has spread lies until the leaders welcome him but it is as one welcomes an assassin into his home.”
The men sat, silent. She glanced toward Parin. He’d taken a few steps closer to the fire.
Bando rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Does the story have a happy ending?”
“I don’t know. It isn’t finished yet.” She examined each of the traders. Bando didn’t meet her gaze, but Ladrius nodded and smiled.
After a few moments, Bando looked at each of the other traders. Some unspoken communication must have taken place, but Ilythra couldn’t discern what. The leader finally stared at her. “You know the trader’s creed.”
Her heart sank. She’d have to find another band of traders and she just didn’t have time. “I know it, yes. I have lived by an adaptation of the second creed.”
He smiled. “‘Your name is only as good as your product.’ What is your product, Ilythra?”
“I struggle to produce truth, maintain life and health, and deal fairly with all men. I mean to restore Anatar to health. You travel. You’ve heard stories. You know the unrest that is sweeping the lands, the blight on crops, the pillaging and raiding. I will stop all of it.”
Bando shook his head. “Then you also know that traders have no allegiance to lords or lands and we do not bear arms. It is what has kept us safe for time untold.”
“Creed five and six. Yes, I understand. Do you bear allegiance to Anatar?”
The trader rubbed his beard again. She could almost feel him weighing her words.
“It is Anatar we must fight for. Not one lord, not one land.” Ilythra leaned forward.
“We have to be loyal to Anatar,” Ladrius spoke up. “Without the land, our routes will suffer. You know, Bando—you know what happened to Sher’s band down south.”
Ilythra opened her mouth but shut it. It was not time to satisfy her curiosity.
Once more, Bando glanced at his group. “Your story was a bad trade for only squirrel stew.” He took a deep breath. “What more would you have of us?”
Relief washed over her. “I would not have you side with any lord, and I would not ask you to t
ake up weapons. I know what the Trader’s Creed means to you. But traders are not known merely for the goods they bring but for the news.”
“You want us to spy for you.” Parin spoke from a few wheels away.
She stared into the dark to where the trader stood. “I want you to carry messages. I need to communicate with a band of Rugians.”
“The Rugians are bad for business.” Shem shook his head. “I’ll have no part of that.”
“That is because they’ve been taking orders from someone who has no respect for the Trader’s Creed or traders.” Although technically, Bredych was a trader. She’d never heard that particular story. “There is a band of Rugians that is loyal to me, and I need messages sent and received.”
“How? The traders don’t journey fast or far. It would be faster to send a bird.”
“Birds can be captured and killed. I would rather avoid them if possible.”
“How else?” Shem asked.
Ilythra smiled. “How familiar are you with the Benai sticks?” She pulled out a small, carved stick. “This, my friends, is how the Benai communicate and it is how I’d like you to communicate with me.” She explained the various markings she’d created to convey a simple message. She didn’t want to use the Benai markings or betray Mohan’s confidence. She had a feeling not many outsiders knew how to read the Benai sticks. “I would ask that you spread the word among other traders you think might help and any Benai you might see. Tell them Ilythra sent you.”
“And if we’re caught?” Bando asked.
Ilythra swallowed. “I won’t lie to you. If you’re caught, he will kill you in the slowest way possible.”
“So don’t get caught,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Ryliann couldn’t stop gaping like a country boy his first day in a city as his guide led him through manicured gardens. He hadn’t wanted to leave his men back in the small deserted village, but he also didn’t want to offend Arien, the formidable-looking warriors or the king who had sent for them. He needed an alliance with the Siobani too much. He was gambling a lot on Arien’s words.
He’d heard stories of the Siobani all his life, but he could hardly believe he was walking in their midst. A desire to explore every pathway pulsed in his veins. Excitement mixed with the dread of refusal. He’d left his kingdom, his duty, his father. Shame weighed his step. He was a traitor to the crown. An escaped prisoner, and worse, he’d left his father to Brishne’s influence.
They passed through a portico of arches. Pale stone stretched overhead, almost luminescent against the steel-coated sky. He paused to study the carvings on a graceful arch. His guard paused a short distance away, waiting.
His men had warned him against coming alone. They were afraid some of the stories told of late were true. But he didn’t see what choice he had. He’d already gambled everything.
There was an air of age, of permanence in the place. He wondered if time really did slow down in the Siobani domain. He’d heard many traders spinning their tales around a roaring fire with storms raging outside while they sheltered in Edriel. Some stories claimed the Dawn Children were magicians, or that they possessed a pool of magical quality—whoever drank of it never grew old. There were darker tales too. He shuddered.
Ryliann’s musing fell short as they approached a heavy door. They entered a small chamber that led to another set of doors.
The guard motioned for him to wait and entered the room. Ryliann studied the masonry, entranced with color and form of the stone until the Siobani reappeared.
Ryliann took a deep breath and followed him into the hall. The much-practiced greeting he’d prepared abandoned his tongue. The Siobani king sat at the far side of the room. He thought he was ready to meet the leader; he was wrong. Ryliann dropped into a bow of reverence. A man stood to one side of the king. Arien. Ryliann let out a shaky breath. Where was the woman?
“Welcome, Prince of Edriel.”
Ryliann’s gaze snapped back to the king. Damned if I’m not tongue-tied like a schoolboy. This is not a good way to start. “I’m honored, Your Majesty,” he began.
“Please, there’s no king of the Dawn Children. I’m their Riege, their leader. You may call me Ewen.”
Ryliann nodded, his rehearsed speech also gone from memory.
“For what purpose do you bring such an array into my lands, Son of Edriel?” Ewen asked.
Ryliann opened his mouth and then shut it. The Riege’s voice reminded him of thunder, of the rain against the great waters. His shoulders slumped. He would stick with the unadorned truth. “I’m here to seek your aid.”
“I see,” Ewen said.
Ryliann peered closer at the Riege. He could swear the Siobani sounded amused, though his expression revealed nothing. He looked to Arien. The younger man inclined his head almost imperceptibly.
“I’ve nothing to offer in return, your—Ewen, only my loyalty.”
“Your king pledged his loyalty long ago and yet was prepared to take an emissary from our lands hostage. Do you now pledge a new loyalty or renew the old bond?”
Sorrow lanced Ryliann’s breast. “My king is not himself. He no longer recognizes old ties.”
“Do you know what you’re saying, Prince of Edriel? To go against your king is treason and punishable by death, according to your own laws.”
Ryliann stared at the mosaicked floor. “I am already marked a traitor. My men released me from my father’s dungeons.”
“So they are traitors as well.”
Anger coursed through Ryliann. “They are loyal to the kingdom, to Edriel.”
“No. They are loyal to you.” Ewen’s voice didn’t change inflection.
Ryliann clenched his jaw together. This was not going the way he’d intended.
“These men, they willingly followed you into Dawn Children territory?”
“Yes.”
“They would share in your punishment?” Ewen asked.
Ryliann swallowed. “Yes.”
“For what crime were you accused of treason?”
“Abetting the escape of enemies of the crown.”
Arien stiffened beside the king, and the king’s eyes sparkled. “I see. For that I am in your debt, it would seem. Yet you did not bargain with that first. You have my respect, Prince. What would you ask of me?”
“I want to take back my kingdom.”
Ewen leaned forward. “From your father?”
“No, from his counselor.”
“Would it surprise you, Prince of Edriel, that I know this counselor?” Ewen shifted slightly in his chair.
A trickle of fear pierced Ryliann’s heart. His men.
“He is no friend of the Dawn Children, but he holds great power,” Ewen continued. “You do not know what you ask.”
Ryliann glanced between Ewen and Arien. He took a few deep breaths. He’d come this far. He wouldn’t back down now. “Perhaps not, but I ask it still.”
Ewen smiled. “Brave or foolish. Sometimes the two go hand in hand.” The Riege’s eyes glowed from the light of the fire. Ryliann couldn’t look away. “I’ll help you in whatever way I can. We’ll provide shelter for your men but not in the city. They may remain where they are. They will be quite comfortable. You, however, may stay in the fortress. A chamber will be prepared.”
“My thanks, but my place is with my men. I’ll stay with them.”
“Very well. Listen to me now, son of Edriel. Your honor is at stake for your men’s behavior while they’re within my domain. I’ve heard beyond your words to those things you do not say. I trust we’ll be able to help each other. Arien will lead you back to your men tomorrow. Until then, please welcome our hospitality tonight.”
“Thank you, Riege,” Ryliann stammered before he followed Arien out the door.
* * *
Howling winds shook the window’s frame, snapping Ilythra from her reverie. The sudden storm was not unusual this far north. That she was daydreaming was.
An audible growl from her stomach brought her to her feet. She’d returned only that morning. How Aimena had known the exact time she’d do so, Ilythra didn’t know, but the Elderborn woman had a hot bath and change of clothes waiting for her.
She’d yet to share with Ewen that her mission was a success. She wasn’t in a hurry to do so either. He was meeting with Ryliann. For some reason, she had no desire to see the human prince again.
Would the mission she gave the traders help? Could she count on Ansgar and his men? She didn’t know how they were going to beat Bredych with so few against so many. Even if she could somehow convince a handful of Rugians to remain loyal to her, even if the traders convinced other traders to help... She strode to the window and stared out at the gray skies. Would any humans stand with them?
Ryliann. The prince hadn’t been far from her mind since she’d heard he’d entered the protected lands. Had Ewen finished speaking with him? She had to admit, seeking the territory of the Dawn Children had taken courage. Of course, so had defying his father and helping them escape. What did he hope to gain by coming to them? Sanctuary? He’d said he wanted to fight for his kingdom. Did he understand the war was much bigger than one kingdom? The coming war was for Anatar.
Bredych used the very life of the land against them. Even if they won, would they lose? Her stomach soured, putting an end to any thoughts of supper.
She moved to the door, threw it open and ran right into a hard, firm body. An apology died on her lips when she gazed into pale brown eyes rimmed with green. Her gaze fell to his chest, where her hand still rested. She jerked the hand behind her back. Had she conjured him with her thoughts? Her hand tingled.
“I’m sorry,” Ryliann said.
“What are you doing here?” she asked a little more sharply than she intended. The prince smelled like a forest after the rain, wood smoke on a cold day, musky and clean. There was something intensely masculine about him that made her feel small. She hated it.
Journey of the Wanderer Page 15
