“You have, uh, old stuff and maps and things all over your house,” Renn ventured. “Uh, why is that?”
It was an obvious—and awkward—attempt at changing the subject, but Emmie and Alixa appreciated it.
“I’ve filled my house with many treasures, my friend. Our history plays out all across these walls. Maybe our own place in it, too?” His eyes twinkled at them. “This room could tell the story of all the Westerlunds. Where we came from, who we’ve become, how our fortunes rise and fall. Fall mostly now, no? That should change.” His furry eyebrows came together in a frown, and he shuffled across the room. “It would change, if they’d but listen.”
He unhooked an ancient cracked half-shield and handed it to Renn.
“Lamberden Pass is flush with history. You, of course, recognize this?” Ebner surveyed his three young guests. Alixa shook her head. Renn and Emmie stared, perplexed. He was aghast. “What do they teach you kids?”
“I haven’t set foot in a school since I was ten,” Alixa replied.
“We mostly learn practical stuff in Drennich,” Renn added.
Emmie shrugged and flashed an apologetic smile.
Ebner’s mouth hung open in gap-toothed dismay. Renn surveyed the room, wishing he could do better for the old man. His gaze caught on a carved wood-hanging with faded white paint. Renn shot Emmie a look. She scowled quizzically and Renn turned back to Ebner.
“Sir, what’s that shield-thing in the corner. . . with the big white cat?”
Emmie instantly straightened. Her eyes, brimming with curiosity and excitement, met Renn’s. She peeked at Alixa, who appeared bored.
“Ah, yes!” Ebner’s countenance rose. “Queen Chastien’s charge. The end of the Great Divide. This is your heritage, girls, and a glorious one. Grievous that one runs across so few of you these days.” The hermit considered them for a second, then shook off whatever he’d been contemplating. “Chastien du-Albin had two great emblems. Her army’s symbol, the Claw. . . bright silver with two fingers bent halfway up. And this one, the Great Snowy Cougar, the monarchial du-Albin seal. Such a loss. . .” he trailed off, then heaved a sigh. “This wooden wall mounting is merely a representation. The true seal was reserved for the royal family alone. Each du-Albin had their own Snowy Cougar, finely worked metal inlaid with sparking white jewels. A broach or an amulet, some affixed to a ceremonial dagger or sword. It was the birthright of royalty! However. . .”
He held up a gnarled finger, taking a storyteller’s pause for emphasis. Renn and Emmie hung on every word. Even Alixa could no longer feign disinterest.
“The mark of the true heir to the throne carried Chastien’s very own cougar amulet, a thing of exquisite beauty, handed down monarch to monarch. Except, you see—”
The teapot sang out, followed by a splash of water boiling over.
“Our stew! Here I am blathering about historical obscurities while you all are famished. Give me, say, twenty minutes and dinner will be ready. My specialty, you know. Truly a feast worthy of kings and queens!”
He laughed, then shuffled off, leaving them sitting in stunned silence.
“I have to stretch my legs.” Emmie stood abruptly, gaping like she’d run smack into a stone wall.
“I’ll join you,” Renn whispered.
“I’d rather be alone.”
“But, Emmie, I want—”
“Let the Sheep stretch her pins in peace,” Alixa growled. “God knows we’d make better time if they were longer.”
“Fine.” Renn sunk back into his chair.
Emmie stumbled away, first into a closet, and then quickly back out again before sheepishly locating an outside door. She paced across the yard; a nighttime sky full of stars lighting her way. Beginning to hyperventilate, she tucked her head between her knees. The cat on her necklace—the snowy cougar—was the mark of Bandu royalty. An especially exquisite amulet was the sign of Queen Chastien’s true heir. Could it be. . . her? A marginalized fisher girl from a sleepy nowhere village?
I came looking for who I am. But... She knew who Chastien was. Who didn’t? Even deep in the Vale and Khuul, the northern queen’s heroism was taught with mythical reverence. I’m her descendant. Maybe even her heir.
Emmie. Dawn.
She spliced her name in two, like Dad would whenever she let herself careen out of control. Think, Emmie. Think. She began counting out the facts as she knew them on her fingers, as Dad had taught her. She didn’t get far before clapping a hand over her mouth. Dad found the amulet in that coffin with baby-me.
Why somebody tried to kill her in some ritual sacrifice was the most incomprehensible piece of the puzzle of who she was. But a royal assassination attempt—on the rightful heir, no less—could make one of the most baffling aspects of Dad’s story make sense. Did that make her a queen? That was too regal and lofty for Emmie to even toy with. But. . . Princess Emmidawn.
Emmie smiled widely.
Well, no. . . that wouldn’t be her name. But she liked the name Dad gave her. I’m keeping it. If she was a princess, she could darn well call herself whatever she pleased. Emmie giggled. She’d never had power over anything.
A princess. Never scorned or ignored. Never humiliated as the butt of the joke. She would belong. She would not only belong, she’d be in charge. Emmie shook her head, not particularly caring for that idea. Opportunity! Yes, much better. She’d have opportunities to do things she’d never dreamed.
And the map, with Alixa to guide her, would take her back to her home, her kingdom. Well, Queen-dom, I suppose. Growing increasingly light-headed, she giggled again at the thought of it and her ignorance of how any of this worked. Alixa knows how to get there.
Alixa. . .
She apparently bore the mark, too. Ebner said sometimes they affixed it to a dagger or sword. They must be relatives. They were about as dissimilar as two people could be—not sisters, surely, but something.
Princess Emmie, the fishing queen. The skinny, scraggly-haired girl who used to struggle to lug cords of dock rope back in the Khuul. Back in her fishing days with Dad. A princess. Emmie laid back, lost in thought. It wasn’t long before her daydreams were running wild.
Back inside, Renn was reeling. Emmie, his friend, his. . . well, Emmie, may be the queen of a legendary northern kingdom? Renn liked her fine simply as Emmie, his friend. His hope she could be something more was already looking unlikely. And with this, now what?
“Hey, Longar.” Alixa snapped him out of his daze. “Still brooding that your girlfriend wouldn’t take you for a walk?”
Renn crossed his arms and cast her a hateful scowl.
“Easy there, I’m not always out to get you, you know.” Alixa softened her tone. “Just wondering what the old guy said that threw the both of you off a cliff.”
“Seems to have done the same to you.”
“Fair enough. Maybe it has. You were fine until. . .” Alixa’s voice trailed off. She tapped her fingers on her chair. Her almond eyes narrowed. “Rennwinn, have you seen that Bandu cougar before?”
“I can’t really say.” Renn squirmed.
The fireplace crackled. Alixa stared Renn down.
“The Sheep have something like that?”
“That’s, uh. . .”
Alixa’s mouth constricted into a tight line and her fists clenched.
“Oh, friends?” Ebner called from the kitchen. “I rarely cook for more than one. Twenty minutes was wildly optimistic. Maybe a couple hours?”
“Take all the time you need, sir,” Alixa sang out light-heartedly. Her cold, narrow eyes bore into Renn. She whispered, “No more games. You, me, and the Sheep—it’s time we had a real frank talk.”
XXXVIII - Longardin, Longarvale
“When I left them at the docks, Ma’am, it was with my best wishes on their continued questing.” Leeman’s legs churned, scrambling to keep up.
“They never arrived home,” Brie snapped. And she did not appreciate the term questing being applied to her kids whatsoever. “Did
you actually see them off?”
“I secured them passage on a Drennich-bound cruiser. I charged the longshoreman with their safe conduct.” Leeman’s chest puffed up, offended. “It hardly seemed necessary to physically see them off. The cruiser was to depart within half an hour.”
Brie scowled at him and resumed her frenetic pace.
“Hey, I’m not happy about this either, Miss Angry Eyes!” Helping those two quirky kids had been one of the real highlights in his dull job for, well, who knew how long. How could they have gone missing? Leeman dismissed his incredulity: they obviously had, judging by the fiery little woman with furious dark eyes, and the young man who looked a good bit like Rennwinn. Except older. Bigger. Angrier.
Jes had taken Brie’s pre-dawn news about as expected. She hadn’t strangled Brie, at least, so that was something. Berglin, Jes’s middle son, insisted on accompanying Brie, and neither Brie nor Jes objected. Berg was solid and steady like his father. And a lifetime of sibling torture notwithstanding, he loved his sensitive, earnest little brother.
“Why wouldn't they have boarded?” Berg asked. “This man you left them with—this longshoreman—you’d recognize him?”
They were heading to the docks at a breakneck pace, Leeman scurrying to keep up.
“Of course, sir,” Leeman said with dignified pride. “My memory’s ironclad. Name was Menches. Surly fellow. Part and parcel with the job round here; the docks are a surly place. I’ll tell you he had no love for me. Weaselly bureaucrat and all.” Leeman chuckled at his description of himself.
Berg and Brie exchanged glances as Leeman kept talking. And he did keep talking. It was one of the things he did best.
“He’ll have less love for me when I’m through with him.” Leeman’s demeanor hardened. He pulled on the documents he’d drawn up, slapping them against his hand. “Not that I give a moldy turnip what he thinks. Ah, there’s the spot.” Leeman pointed with his fistful of documents. “Any boat to Drennich, it’s leaving from right there.”
“Must be a quiet dock,” Berg murmured.
“Shared dock. Traffic to all over.”
And that, Brie thought gravely, is where the explanation will lie.
“You there! Longshoreman!” Leeman shouted. Nobody paid him the least bit of attention. He bellowed shrilly, “Menches!”
A man standing alone coiling rope, reflexively turned his head.
“There’s our man,” Leeman said. He turned to two city security guards he’d flagged down. “Hang tight, sirs. I’ll call when needed.”
“You there! Menches, is it?” Brie yelled, outpacing the others despite her shorter legs. She tried to temper her anger down to a diplomatic level. “I’m looking for two friends. I’ve reason to believe you know where I can find them.”
“I don’t have time for you. Get off my dock.”
Berg pulled up at Brie’s side, fists balled. Leeman trotted in behind.
“Oh, but you do have time for this lady,” Leeman said, wearing a cocky grin. “Remember me, few weeks back? Paid you to put two teenagers on a boat to Drennich.”
“So?”
“So they never arrived.” Berg’s shoulders squared. “One of them looked, oh, a bit like me. A lot like me, in fact.”
Hearing the threat for what it was, Menches took a step towards Berg.
“Enough!” Brie yelled, and then lowering her palms, said calmly, “Enough. All I want is to find these kids and bring them home. Now, did you see them to the Drennich cruiser as you told this official?”
“Fine, yes, I put them on a boat.” He began to turn away.
“A boat?” Brie’s eyes smoldered. “Shall I take that as your admission you did not put them on the boat you were specifically instructed?” She shot a look at Leeman, whose tongue stuck out as he began writing. “Where’d you send them?”
The man’s countenance remained unwavering.
“What’s that dock’s destination?” Brie pointed to the pier neighboring the Drennich dock. She didn’t wait for his reply. “Berg?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Berg kept his glare on the longshoreman as he strode away.
“I’ll get my answers with or without your help. I guarantee that,” Brie said coldly. “With your confession of guilt, Mr. Menches, you best reconsider your level of cooperation.”
“What?”
“Kidnapping. Willful Endangerment of Minors.” Leeman acidly read off the documents he was hastily filling out. “Theft—the coin for that trip came from my own pockets.”
“Over the northern border!” Berg shouted from the far dock.
“Ah, I see. . .” Leeman’s eyes lit up devilishly. He shuffled through his papers. “Illegal Border Crossing. Hmm. Human Trafficking, maybe? Intent to Murder?” He rolled the documents up. “Guards!”
Proof of this sounded dubious to Menches, and it probably was. But off the docks, and in the courts, the doughy little man could conjure up all kinds of political and legal tricks.
“You ready to deal?” Brie said and, again, didn’t wait for a reply. “I want a durable boat. Fully stocked. You have it here, right here, in six hours and you point us exactly, exactly, where you sent my friends and maybe Leeman will go easy on you.”
“Eh, maybe.” Leeman shrugged.
“These two fine men...” Brie gestured to the approaching security guards. “Will see that you do as I’ve instructed. To the T. Understood?”
Menches considered the fuming woman and the four men now encircling him. “Fine.”
Two hours later, back at the consulate, Brie had finished studying the dreadfully inadequate maps of the northern frontier. She sat at the side room table, head in hands, overwhelmed by the scope of their predicament.
“Berg, pack our gear,” she said at last. “Leeman, I hope you’re hiding a few tricks up your political sleeve. We’ve got, what, four hours?”
Leeman rubbed his hands together. He relished ‘political sleeve’ trickery of any variety. And so Brie soon found herself climbing winding stairs to a prison tower.
“Stay four feet back of the bars. Those arms are longer than you think.” A guard let her in with words Renn and Emmie would’ve recognized. “He’s been even more jumpy and unpredictable than usual lately. Having a good day today, all things considered.”
The guard closed the door and the cell went dark. Waiting for her eyes to adjust, Brie’s heart thumped. A tingle ran down her spine. She steeled herself and approached the grate. How to get what she needed from this man?
“Wolf. . . t’was wolf,” the convict blurted out before she had a chance to speak. He looked terrified and more than a bit crazed. “In the courtyard, few days back. . .”
“You saw a wolf in the courtyard?” Brie feared the man was thoroughly insane.
“Not a wolf. The Wolf.” His grasped the grate on the other side. With one shaking hand he pointed to a barred window. “Out there. He’s come for me.”
Brie tamped her frustration. She didn’t have time to play mind games with a man who may not have a mind left. Dismissing pleasantries, she locked eyes with him. “Kelebis, do you remember me?”
“It’s Boren,” he said sullenly, flopping back onto his cot. But it was him, she knew it.
“Okay. Boren, if you prefer.” Brie’s voice went soft and rhythmic. “You remember me, Boren? Thirteen years ago, Longarvale border guards transported you here.”
“I don’t need to be reminded.”
“Remember Drennich?” she asked softly. “They weren’t feeding you. A woman brought you warm bread and fresh fruit late that night.”
He nodded his shaggy head and gave her his attention. Brie’s eyes flashed and she held his pinpoint pupils as though she’d caught him in a spider’s web. Her body veritably shook with a surge of adrenaline.
“She confronted that self-important captain.” Brie leaned closer, close enough he could smell her. “Demanded better treatment, adequate food. When the captain tried to dismiss her, she pulled rank on him.”
&
nbsp; “Told him, ‘my jurisdiction’s the welfare of every man, woman, and child in this town.” He let out a musty laugh. “Showed that nasty little man.”
“That was me.” Brie strained out her words, looked pleadingly into Kelebis’s eyes. “Do you remember me?”
Brie felt herself journeying back into his foggy mind. Somewhere deep in the crevices of his memories, she found him: a simple man, despite years of moldering away. Keeping his gaze fixed with hers, she watched a personality that had been pushed away and twisted for years, reemerge.
“I do. . .” he said, almost sounding sane and calm.
“I helped you. Now I need your help. My friends are in trouble. Kelebis, please.”
He stared into her unblinking eyes, mulling Brie’s words. Eventually he spoke, this time casual and even. “Yeah. One good turn, right? My mom, she used to . . .” His voice broke momentarily, then he gave Brie an accommodating nod. “I’ll help you, Ma’am. But first, there’s something you must know.”
A half-hour later, Brie sprinted down the stairs in a cold sweat, her mind conjuring up a million fears. Amazingly, improbably, she’d gotten what she needed. She also got much more than she was prepared to hear, or even imagined possible. Everything had changed.
A small act of kindness years prior had awoken a dormant decency in Kelebis. It had made all the difference for Brie. For Kelebis as well. The guards noticed a distinct difference in him for quite some time. Though not uniformly consistent, there seemed to be more man than beast locked in the tower than they could ever recall.
Back at the consulate, Brie hunched over the table again, culling together what she’d heard from Kelebis, desperately trying to recall specifics from the passing glances she had at Emmie’s mysterious map, and join that to the spotty government maps available. All the while, allowing herself to be tormented by her dream’s chilling images. At long last, she straightened, not pleased with the notes and drawings she’d written onto the two parchments, but aware she could do no better.
“Change of plans, I’m afraid. I need this brought to Drennich and I need immediate action.” Brie, looking ragged, held up one of the two maps. “The details, such as they are, I’ve written here.”
The Silver Claw Page 23
