Reshner's Royal Ranger

by Julie C. Gilbert

  The crowd around Reia and the doctor rumbled. Some seemed awed, others disgusted, but everyone was impatient.

  “What can I do for you, doctor?” Reia queried, careful to keep her tone level, even though the man’s attitude rankled.

  “It’s what I can do for you,” the man replied.

  “Please get to the point, doctor.”

  Doctor Dentelich frowned and raised his voice so everyone could hear.

  “His Highness, Prince Terosh of House Minstel, has requested I deliver these to you.” The doctor motioned something forward. His attitude suddenly made a strange sort of sense.

  He’s never been here before.

  The thought shocked Reia, though she knew it shouldn’t. Rammon, like any city, had its rich, well-off, middle class, poor, and really poor. She had heard that the nobility and wealthy stayed in the North and West Quarters, but she had always assumed the situation was exaggerated. The middle class occupied the East Quarter and the Merchant Quarter, which surrounded the palace. The poor lived in the South Quarter. From there, ground vehicles and hovs swept them off to farms around the Kevil Plains so they could pick fruit, harvest grains, and herd tretlings.

  The crowd parted to let a boy through. At least Reia assumed it was a boy, judging by the scrawny legs teetering under a huge, bulging sack. Joy swept through her at the thought of Terosh, but she pushed it away to seize control of the situation.

  The crowd buzzed.

  “What does the prince send?” Reia had a pretty good idea, but she wanted confirmation.

  “Ridiculous stuff,” said the doctor. “Herbs, dried flowers, preserved meats, and kefs in case he forgot something. I told the boy he needed to send real medicine.”

  The doctor seemed to be talking to himself, but Reia didn’t care. It took significant self-control not to squeal with delight. She quickly relieved the boy of his burden and thanked him for his service. The boy blushed and ducked his head.

  “Thank you, Doctor Dentelich, please convey my thanks to Prince Terosh,” Reia said, remembering her manners.

  Not used to being dismissed, especially by a young woman, Dentelich merely glared.

  Reia smiled to ease his tension, but soon, she turned her attention back to the people who needed her.

  By the end of the first day, Reia had several invitations to spend the night. She weighed each invitation and chose to stay with the Mirovi family whose neighbors happily donated food for her upkeep. Lelianna Mirovi had been the woman asking her to cure Kemloth Fever. Her sons, Tomas and Chaz, suffered from the disease, and her husband, Medri, worked a rich farmer’s land and would be gone for the rest of the month.

  Reia enjoyed her time with the Mirovi family immensely, but after two days, the young men were on the mend and the situation grew awkward. With the boys ready to work, Lelianna wouldn’t accept food from her neighbors. Not wanting to tax any family too long anyway, Reia thanked her hostess and took her leave.

  As she went out to work that day, she had no clue where she would spend the night, but as usual, word spread and the invitations made a comeback. This time she chose the Veenir family.

  Almost two weeks passed in quick order.

  Every morning, Reia rose early, walked to the nearest street corner, and spent the day tending sick and injured people.

  At night, she returned to her current hosts or found new ones, shared a simple meal with them, and tended to her clothes and body’s need for cleanliness. Sometimes, the care took the form of a lukewarm bath, but mostly, she settled for a cold-water rinse in a small basin. In such cases, she had the anotechs go through their cleaning rituals. While on the Riden Mountains she could track down a Ranger supply cache with a hand-held, tosh-powered sonic cleaner, but such things were nonexistent in the South Quarter.

  Thoughts of Prince Terosh often intruded on the peaceful work. She knew no other life than as a Ranger, yet the thought of Terosh changed everything.

  I miss him. I miss his humor, his bravery, and even that irritating need to protect everyone.

  Her mind wandered back to the Kireshana. She recalled waking up each morning, looking for him, and feeling relieved when she spotted his soft, wavy black hair. She wanted to run her fingers through that hair. Stargazing together had been wonderful. She smiled at the memory of how hard it had been to direct his arm. The way he’d held her while she explained the stories and pointed out the constellations felt so right.

  He’s everything a prince should be. Can I really ask him to give up palace life for me?

  During quiet hours, Reia thought of her next meeting with Terosh. By temporarily giving him her banistick, she had confirmed her interest in him as a suitor. She vaguely recalled explaining the custom to him, but the memory seemed like a distant dream.

  Every night, she waited for news of a colored fire, hoping for a purple one. She asked people to watch the plains for her. Nobody took this for an odd request, for everyone knew colored fire meant a cry for help, one a Ranger would always answer.

  ALLEI 14, 1538

  Fourteen days after Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey

  Royal Palace, City of Rammon

  If Prince Terosh thought he might get to relax, he was gravely mistaken. With Tate preparing to go to Mitra, his role shifted dramatically. In addition to dodging increased efforts to pair him to a suitable woman, Terosh found himself buried in lessons on planetary finance, war tactics, network building, rebellion suppression, public relations, speech crafting, banquet etiquette, and anotech mastery.

  Insisting that his lessons be practical, Terosh spent nearly a full day meeting his brother’s Rammon informants. They came from all city Quarters and fell into a wide age range, but he noted that most were young.

  “Why are there so many children?” Terosh asked his brother.

  “Personal messengers are often overlooked.” Tate ruffled the hair of a little boy who gaped at Terosh. “They’re commonplace in the noble houses, and they know how to listen.”

  Terosh envied the ease with which Tate moved among the informants, be they man, woman, or child. He knew it was an act, for every time they were alone the melancholy mood took over again.

  The bits of news varied greatly. The RT Alliance soldiers were becoming bolder in their efforts to buy informants. The last acid storm had hit farms on the Balor Plains hard. Idonia’s Second Lord might visit Lord Lyaloth next week. The news that most interested Terosh concerned the Ranger Healer working in the South Quarter. He arranged for several personal messengers to keep an eye on Reia. He felt bad for spying on her, but he needed to assure himself of her safety.

  He didn’t know how to break the news of his sudden rise in status. It wasn’t something he wanted to bring up when proposing marriage, but it had to be done. She had to know exactly what she was walking into. For most women, the change would appeal to an innate lust for power, but Terosh knew Reia would feel duty-bound to step aside in favor of a more qualified woman. He didn’t want anyone else. He had already found the perfect woman and just needed to persuade her to stick around.

  Chapter 33:

  Setting a Trap

  ALLEI (AUGUST) 14, 1538

  Same Day

  Keldor’s Camp, Kevil Plains

  “What can you tell me about the Ranger?” Ariman Keldor asked his men.

  Adrik Bentanner and Einer Akurin had spent the last two weeks shadowing the Ranger. Now, they stood before him to deliver their report.

  “She’s gorgeous, and everybody in the South Quarter loves her,” Adrik reported. “She rises early and spends a few hours searching the plains for herbs. You should see her hair when she lets it down. It’s so long and silky and—”

  “Stick to the point,” Keldor interrupted. “Would she sacrifice herself for a stranger?”

  “Yes,” Einer confirmed.

  “We’re just gonna capture her, right? We won’t have to hurt her, will we? She’s so pretty.”

  Bentanner’s smitten. That could be trouble.

&nb
sp; “Don’t worry about that now,” Keldor said. “Go get Herik and Alden. We need to discuss the next move.”

  While they waited for Adrik to return with the others, Einer spoke again.

  “The Ranger’s not carrying a banistick.”

  “I know,” Keldor said. “She gave it to the prince. It tells me we’re on the right path.”

  While Adrik and Einer had followed the Ranger, Keldor and his remaining men had scouted nearby farms for convenient targets. Two families drew Keldor’s attention. The couple about to have their first child would theoretically be easier to handle, but experience told Keldor that a man with a threatened wife could be extremely dangerous. Once upon a time, his own, dear, very pregnant, Ilia had been taken by Restler scum as a means of controlling him. Keldor still remembered the gut-wrenching desperation that drove him to slaughter the kidnappers. He pushed the thoughts aside, not relishing the role of kidnapper.

  The other option, a couple slightly older than the Archers, had three small children. Keldor’s experience again made him ponder the situation carefully. Children made wonderful hostages, for parents nearly always complied once they knew their children’s lives depended upon it. However, more hostages meant a fluid situation.

  Unable to decide, Keldor waited until the men were crammed into his tent and asked for their thoughts.

  “I say we go for the ones with kids,” said Herik Lezan. The gangly man spoke slowly as he studied his kerlak pistol.

  “Why?” Keldor asked.

  Herik shrugged and shook his head, indicating he had no real reason.

  Keldor waved off his opinion.

  “Anyone else want to weigh in?” he asked.

  “Kids cause extra sympathy,” Einer pointed out. He looked like he didn’t want to be making that point. “Grab a kid and the parents are yours to command.” Clearing his throat, Einer picked up a stick and poked lazily at the fire blazing in the center of Keldor’s tent. Flaps in the tent roof had been thrown back to let the smoke out, but the fire still created a haze inside the tent.

  “I agree,” Adrik said.

  Keldor acknowledged their opinions and waited for Alden to say something. The tall, quiet young man stared deep into the fire. He had spent the last two days as a field hand on the Archer farm. As such, he still wore the sun-faded coveralls of a field hand.

  “What do you think, Alden?” Keldor didn’t know much about the Tarpon boy, but so far, he had proven himself a sturdy fighter and a keen observer.

  “Children are ... unpredictable. I think we should take the couple who hasn’t had their child yet. We’ll have less people to deal with.” Alden poured great thought into each sentence.

  “I agree,” Adrik said again.

  “You already agreed with me,” Herik reminded him. “You can’t—”

  “He’s got a good point. Besides, how much trouble can—”

  “Never underestimate a target,” Keldor said, cutting Adrik off. “We’ll go for the Archers. Alden’s right. Too many people will only give us trouble. Now get some sleep, we’ll take them tomorrow.”

  Early the next evening, after the workers left for the day, Ariman Keldor led his men to the Archer’s humble property. Upon spotting their target, Keldor was glad he’d brought four men with him.

  Derk Archer used a wicked-looking pitchfork as a walking staff, but he put up very little resistance when Adrik and Herik pointed serlak pistols at his stomach.

  “What’s this about?” Archer inquired, bewildered. He held the pitchfork across his chest. “I have no money, nor much worth taking. Everything I have goes straight into the farm.”

  “Stop talking and let my men bind you.” Keldor kept his voice steady to avoid misunderstandings. “I’m not here to hurt you or your wife, but I need your cooperation.”

  Derk looked like he wanted to argue, but he obeyed.

  At Keldor’s nod, Einer removed the pitchfork and stuncuffed the man’s hands behind his back. They had to roll up his long sleeves to let the metal cuffs rest against the man’s skin for maximum effect. The guns remained level to keep the burly farmer compliant. The metal restraints clamped Archer’s arms together and would shock him if he struggled.

  As they approached Archer’s home, the farmer resisted.

  “Do what you want with me but leave my wife out of it. I—”

  “If you speak again, I’ll stuff Alden’s dirty socks down your throat,” Adrik threatened.

  Keldor was surprised that the silly threat worked. Another nod sent Alden to knock on the door.

  In moments, the door swung open revealing a woman in her early twenties. Her light brown skin paled at the sight of Keldor’s men holding her husband captive. Airiel Archer nearly dropped into a dead faint. Instead, she leaned heavily on the doorway. The awkward posture made her swollen belly strain against the fabric of her simple cotton dress. Her dark brown hair hung loosely to her shoulders and her pale green eyes held many questions.

  Einer leapt forward and caught her as she leaned against the doorway.

  “Get your filthy—”

  “Archer, shut your mouth and keep it shut,” Keldor ordered. “Put her on the couch, Einer.”

  He didn’t care if the couple knew their names, for the knowledge would do them little good. With the army and police forces stretched across a dozen useless forts, not to mention numerous cities, Keldor doubted anyone would even investigate, especially if no serious harm befell the couple. Rangers came and went as they willed. Nobody would miss one.

  Derk struggled until the stuncuffs settled him. He looked helplessly at his wife. Locks of golden brown hair moved in concerted waves as he shook his head in frustration. He cursed until Adrik shook him hard enough to set off more shocks.

  “What do you want with us?” Airiel asked. Her voice wavered with fear.

  Keldor ignored her.

  “Adrik, Herik, settle Master Archer somewhere. Alden, search the house for threats. Einer, sweep the outside. I’ll see what we can do about food for our hosts.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Airiel wondered.

  Keldor ignored her again. He could stuncuff her, but a strong shock might endanger the child. He would do his job, but he had no desire to kill an infant before it drew breath. He could bind her with korver or hemp ropes, both of which would be easy to find, but he wasn’t eager to do that either. This mission was about capturing the Ranger, not causing needless pain.

  Coming to a decision, Keldor walked over to where Airiel lay on the couch.

  “Madam, I have no wish to hurt you. Sit quietly and no harm will come to you, your coming child, or your husband.” He left unsaid what consequences might befall her and her family if she gave him trouble. In his experience, threats made targets surly, and people’s imaginations usually dreamed up far worse things than anything Keldor would bother doing to them. Fear of the unknown would keep the woman in line.

  Airiel crossed her arms over her stomach like she could protect her unborn child better that way.

  Preparations for the evening meal were practically finished. Keldor simply took everything off the stove and added more vegetables and grains for his men. Airiel occasionally ventured a question which went ignored. When served by Einer, she barely picked at the food. Adrik had to physically feed Derk, since Keldor wasn’t about to let him loose for any other reason than to use the washroom. At such times, Keldor had a Klagris SS-79 kerlak pistol leveled at Airiel’s head. He preferred the SS for hostage situations because of the stun setting.

  The cabin had four rooms. The front room contained the living room and kitchen separated by the couch and a table. A pathway between these led to the main bedchamber. A room barely larger than a closet, which Keldor assumed would soon hold the baby, sprang off the left side of the master bedroom, and the washroom sprouted from the right side.

  Keldor’s men were unusually somber until it came time to spring the trap. Adrik whooped and leapt up, Herik and Einer checked their weapons and hauled Derk to his fe
et, and Alden simply smiled. Keldor couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Where are you going?” Airiel asked, sounding relieved and worried.

  “Alden, stay here and guard the lady. We’ll be back with our prize in—”

  A cry from Airiel cut Keldor off. Fear lined her face.

  All eyes riveted upon her.

  “Aw, no,” Einer muttered.

  “Don’t you dare have that kid.” Keldor hated himself for not foreseeing this possibility.

  “Help her!” screamed Derk, stamping a foot and wincing.

  “Einer, you’ve had the most experience with this sort of thing. Switch with Alden,” Keldor commanded, making things up as he went. He couldn’t inflict a frantic pregnant woman upon a kid like Alden.

  “Yes, sir,” Einer responded. “Come on, let’s get you into a nightdress,” Einer added gently to Airiel. He moved to help her stand.

  Derk looked ready to spit nails.

  “Let’s go,” Keldor barked, prodding Derk toward the front door. “The sooner we get back the better.”

  “But—”

  “We’re going to find a Ranger. She’s a healer,” Keldor said, betting Archer would care more for his wife than a stranger.

  “No! Derk, you can’t help them!” Airiel shouted.

  Keldor and his men exited the Archer home and hurried to the spot four kilometers away where they had left bonfire fixings. Along the way, Keldor explained Derk’s role to him. This would be the most dangerous part of the plan. The fire needed to be big enough to attract attention in Rammon. A Ranger’s presence was rare enough that everyone knew how to find her, but if the fire got too big, soldiers would be sent to offer aid. Keldor hoped the Alliance people in the palace could intercept news of the fire. King Teorn probably wouldn’t send an investigator, but Prince Terosh might, especially since he knew his lady would answer the signal fire. The goal was to draw out Prince Terosh, but Keldor didn’t want him bringing half the Royal Guard with him.

  Alden lit the fire with a shot from his kerlak pistol and threw a handful of zalok scales on top to turn the flames purple.