by AC Cobble
Cinda flushed.
“What sort of trouble are you in?” asked Rew, sitting forward and leaning his elbows on the table.
“You’re the King’s Ranger?” asked Cinda. “What does that mean?”
Rew frowned at her but decided if he wanted her to talk, to share her secrets, there was no harm in giving an answer, even if it was one he was certain she already knew. “The land around Falvar is ruled by your father, Baron Fedgley, the land around Yarrow by Baron Worgon. They both swear fealty to Duke Eeron in Spinesend, who owes his allegiance to the king. There are the three princes in the regional capitals, but, well, that’s complicated, isn’t it? Let’s keep it simple. Your lands are ruled by your father the baron, the duke, and the king. Here, in Eastwatch, we’ve no noblemen. There are no other lords or ladies that Eastwatch offers fealty to. This is the king’s land. It is only his. There ought to be a governor handling the affairs of government, and there are the rangers—my team and I—handling matters of law and security. Truth be told, though, there’s little need for extensive government in the territory, and rarely do I need to enforce the king’s laws. Most of what I do, and the rangers who work for me, is monitoring the wilderness to the east of us. That is the prime responsibility of the King’s Ranger. Dealing with matters such as your theft are a rare occurrence.”
Cinda, tight-lipped, nodded.
“Surely you know all of this,” said Rew, hoping it was true.
“I have been taught these things,” confirmed Cinda, “but my tutor’s focus is rarely on the territories. A noblewoman’s education has more to do with sciences and sums, letters and poetry, dress and decorum. I-I wanted to hear it from you about the rangers. You have no allegiances to Baron Worgon, then? None at all?”
Rew scratched his beard and glanced at Blythe, but the junior ranger merely shrugged in response.
“No, lass, I do not,” responded Rew. “We stay in touch with the baronies as any good neighbors should do. We share information, occasionally resources, but not directives. I answer only to Ranger Commandant Vyar Grund in the capital, who answers only to the king.”
“Baron Worgon is engaged in a plot against Duke Eeron,” claimed Cinda, lowering her voice and leaning toward him. She let her eyes flick from Blythe and back to him. “I don’t know all of the details, but I know enough. Worgon’s been raising levies for months. He has a thousand men in his command now. He waved me off when I asked him about it, but my brother and I overheard Worgon’s lackeys talking. They’re planning to assassinate Duke Eeron then take control of Spinesend. After that, they’ll take our family’s land as well. Worgon means to rule the entire duchy. We fled as quickly as we could, intending to run for Falvar to warn my father.”
“Why not go directly to Duke Eeron?” questioned Rew. “It’s an easier journey, and if the plot is against the duke…”
“When we escaped the keep, Worgon locked down Yarrow,” explained Cinda. “We only managed to slip out with Zaine’s help. We figured Worgon would have the road to Spinesend covered in his men. Raif pushed us to travel cross country, but Zaine insisted there was a quicker way to Falvar in the east. We thought… If we can get to my father, he’ll know what to do.”
“A quicker way,” grumbled Rew, rubbing his hand over his hair, feeling the prickly stubble sprung from his scalp after shaving the night before. Blessed Mother, the night before felt like a lifetime ago.
Squabbles amongst the nobles. It was the sort of business he’d come to Eastwatch to avoid. It was the sort of thing he had avoided for the last decade. The nobles were always plotting, always working against each other. It was an endless cycle of marshaling forces, hiring assassins, recruiting spellcasters, and then using them against each other. It never ended. Never would end. The only thing to do was to avoid it.
He sighed. The girl was right.
If Worgon knew the younglings had overheard his minions’ plotting, he would have the road to Spinesend covered in spies, but more importantly, he wouldn’t be acting alone. If he was preparing to move openly against the duke with armed forces, then he would have allies close by to plunge the knife into his liege’s back. With word from Worgon, those hidden blades would be on the lookout for Cinda and her brother as well. Rew doubted the two of them could get anywhere near Duke Eeron’s ear before someone snatched them up.
The senior ranger grimaced. It was the Investiture. It was a few years early, but he’d felt the tug, it had to be. The Investiture was the reason the nobles collected their pawns, the event they amassed their forces for. It was why Rew had come to Eastwatch and why he’d spent the last ten years there, hoping to be forgotten on Vaeldon’s far fringe.
He kept rubbing his head, studying the two girls, thinking. During the last cycle of Investiture, Duke Eeron had avoided the worst of the conflagration. It was part of the attraction of Eeron’s eastern duchy, a buffer between the intrigue of the king’s court and the peace and quiet that Rew sought. It seemed that the duchy would be dragged in, though, this time.
“You’ll help us get to Falvar?” asked Cinda.
Rew glanced at Blythe again and saw the ranger shake her head slightly. She had no more desire than he to become entangled in the affairs of the nobles.
“What were you doing in Yarrow?” asked Rew, ignoring the girl’s question.
She looked as if she meant to press, but answered instead. “My brother and I have fostered there for the last three years.”
“Your father was hoping to make a match for you in Yarrow?” wondered Rew.
Cinda shrugged. “I have an older sister in Spinesend. Father doesn’t want me to distract her prospects, so where else would he send us?”
“Well, he could keep you home in Falvar, or if not that, send you outside of the duchy?” suggested Rew. “Worgon has no boys, does he? There must be fifty cities in the kingdom with better prospects than Yarrow. In Carff alone there should be dozens of suitable bachelors for a girl of your station.”
Cinda flushed.
“You’ve never been outside of the duchy?” guessed Rew.
She nodded. “Father says the Barony of Fedgley and the Duchy of Eeron are where we will rule, and that is the land which we should come to know. He thought that by fostering us with Worgon, we’d help build a relationship between our families. Of course, now we know that has done us little good.”
Rew grunted but did not respond.
“You’ll help us?” asked Cinda.
“How many did they send?” asked Blythe.
“Eight,” muttered Rew. “One got away.”
“There will be more, then,” remarked the ranger.
Rew reached out a hand to a mug sitting in front of Blythe. He tilted it but scowled when he saw it was half full of milk. “There will be more.”
Cinda, looking between the two rangers, asked again, “You’ll help?”
“I don’t know, lass,” replied Rew, clenching his fist, forcing himself not to smack it down on the table. The mystery of the narjags, the loss of his most experienced ranger… he didn’t have time for this.
“We need your help,” insisted Cinda. “Our father and Duke Eeron need your help.”
Grimacing, Rew allowed, “You’ll stay in the Oak & Ash a few days until your brother recovers. He needs rest before you travel, and there’s nothing any of us can do about that. If those men last night were Worgon’s, there’s time still before the runner can make it back to Yarrow and report what happened. There’s no immediate danger, I don’t think, but I’ll station a ranger here at the inn until we’ve figured out what to do.”
Cinda’s lips twisted, and he could tell she wanted more, but he had responsibilities to the people in Eastwatch. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t go jaunting off on some adventure to help the young nobles. There was that, but even if there wasn’t, he simply didn’t want to get involved.
“I’ve two more rangers on their way back from Yarrow,” he said. “When they’ve returned, we’ll know more of what’s happeni
ng in the city. When they’re back, and your brother has recovered, we’ll figure out what the options are.”
“What about—” began Blythe.
“I’ll go and I’ll take Jon,” said Rew. He held up a hand to stall her protest. “I know he’s not the best in the wilderness yet, but he’s what we have. While I’m away, I need you here, Blythe. You’re the only one I can trust.”
Cinda sat back, her head held high. For a moment, Rew wondered if she meant to use her authority as a baron’s daughter to try and command him. He was grateful, when instead of speaking, she merely nodded.
Rew told Blythe, “Jon and I will head into the wilderness tomorrow, but before we go, there’s something I need to show you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The narjag party I tracked, they might have had a shaman.”
“King’s Sake,” hissed Blythe.
Cinda gaped at him, her mouth opened wide. “There hasn’t been a shaman amongst the Dark Kind in… in fifty years.”
“I know,” grumbled Rew. “Not even during the last migration did we find a shaman amongst the narjags, but this one had the look.”
“Did it-Did it cast a spell?” wondered Cinda.
“It did not, but I didn’t give it a lot of time, either,” said the ranger, looking at the girl curiously. “It may be nothing. I hope it’s nothing, but I must look into it. Tomorrow, I’ll go into the wilderness to find where the narjag party had been before I found them and to figure out what they’ve been doing since our first reported sighting. It shouldn’t take me long. When I return, I hope my other rangers will be back from Yarrow. We’ll discuss your situation. In the meantime, your brother must rest, and I suggest you two do as well. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you, but no matter what you do, you’ve long days ahead of you.”
“Understood,” said Cinda, nodding as if they’d just finalized a trade agreement between cities rather than instructions to quietly rest.
Rew turned to Blythe. “Let’s go to the station. I’ll show you the artifacts, and we should pay our respects.”
Blythe, lips tight, nodded.
“You believe them?” asked Blythe.
Rew shrugged. “They don’t seem like they’re lying. Not still lying, at least.”
“Aye, but they’re not telling us all, are they?” she pressed. “A plot by Worgon against Duke Eeron has to be the Investiture, but they haven’t said a word about that.”
“They weren’t alive for the last one,” responded Rew. “Duke Eeron has kept his duchy free of most of the royal politics. I don’t… Do you think it’s possible they don’t know? If Baron Fedgley hasn’t sent his children from the eastern duchy, it’s for a reason. He’s protecting them, and maybe he’s been keeping them ignorant as well. None of the three princes have visited the eastern duchy in the last decade. Their plotting is taking place far from these lands, and I suppose Worgon would be in no rush to educate potential rivals about that plotting.”
“Aye, the princes haven’t been to the eastern duchy since you arrived,” remarked Blythe.
“It’s not because of me,” said Rew with a wry grin. “No, I believe in his heart, Duke Eeron wants nothing to do with the Investiture, and the princes are aware of that. It seems Baron Worgon doesn’t feel the same as his liege, though.”
Blythe crossed her arms over her chest. “How could they not know?”
“Not all nobles are bad people,” said Rew.
“What of Worgon, then?” questioned Blythe. “I’d bet my next season’s pay that if he’s involved in the Investiture it’s because he found himself a patron. One of the princes has an eye on the duchy, Rew. Whether Duke Eeron wants it or not, he’s going to be pulled into the whirlpool. All of the nobles will be.”
Rew could only shrug.
Blythe reached out and grabbed the twisted, torn-open iron bars of the jail cell. “Eight of them and one a spellcaster. Do you think that was a bit much for three children?”
“They’re not children,” replied Rew. “I carried the boy on my shoulder for three leagues, remember? I can assure you he’s a full-grown man. A little extra grown, even.”
“That’s not what I meant,” said Blythe. “Trying to get to Falvar by coming through Eastwatch, the wilderness, the Spine… That’s a child’s fanciful plan. Without a ranger escort, they’d have no chance of surviving the journey. That girl Cinda said it looked shorter on the map, but I wonder if she’s even actually seen one.”
Despite himself, Rew laughed. “That bit, at least, I believed. If they overheard a plot against the duke, it stands to reason Worgon would make travel along the roads impossible. Not to mention, I think the other girl, Zaine, is a thief. She may have her own reasons for wanting to avoid the public roads.”
“They’re all thieves from what I heard,” said Blythe with a snort.
“I mean a thief in the guild,” said Rew. “She spoke to the thugs who’d taken them like she was high up in the Spinesend guild, like she would have protection. Recall what Cinda said. It was only Zaine who got them out of the city. Who has that skillset? A thief.”
“She’s a bit young for membership in the guild,” said Blythe. “I’m no expert, but I’ve heard it takes years of apprenticeship before one is allowed in. That’s just jabbing over an ale about it, but it makes sense, Rew. The guilds survive because they don’t let in inexperienced bunglers. Taking those nobles through Eastwatch on the way to Falvar… That’s a foolish move, Rew. A girl that young doesn’t get into the guild making foolish moves.”
“Maybe she lied trying to save her skin,” said Rew, “but if she wasn’t lying, what was she doing in Yarrow? How did she stumble into the lives of these nobles?”
Blythe frowned.
Rew kicked a bit of iron that was poking out from the ruined cell door. “I suppose we ought to get down to the blacksmith today and order another one of these. Could be we’ll need it.”
“Could be,” agreed Blythe.
Rew led her back out into the common room where the staff, the necklace, and the other items he’d taken from the narjags were laid out.
“The Dark Kind moving again,” said Blythe. “What does it mean?”
“Nothing unless we spy another group of them,” said Rew. “These artifacts, can you sense anything?”
Blythe leaned over the staff, peering at it closely. She picked it up and hefted it. She ran her hands up and down its length and sat it back down on the table. She looked at the necklace of narjag ears, but hesitated, and did not touch the withered flesh. “As far as I can tell, there are no enchantments, completely mundane.”
Rew nodded, her sense confirming his own. “That’s what I thought. Head back to the Oak & Ash, will you? Watch those girls until I come relieve you later today. I’ll spend the night there, and in the morning, Jon and I will retrace the trail of those narjags. I hope we can solve that mystery at least.”
“And when you get back?” she asked.
“And when I get back, we’ll figure out what to do with our errant nobles.”
Blythe reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Tate was a good man, Rew. He was a bit of a father to me and you as well. You’ve got some of him in you, you know? That man had a way of making an impression, and he made a bigger one on you than you realize.”
“Did he now?” asked Rew, stepping back with a grin on his face.
“I remember the man you were when you arrived here,” said Blythe, holding his shoulders in her hands and looking into his eyes. “You’re a different man, now. A better man, and that is because of Tate. I’m going to miss him, Rew.”
Rew wrapped his arms back around Blythe. They held each other for a long minute before he let go and moved away.
“Why don’t you rest?” said Blythe, wiping at her eyes. “Have Anne pour you an ale and take a pipe. I can handle matters here and at the blacksmith.”
“I’ll have time to rest tonight,” replied Rew. He gestured aroun
d the room. “I can finish this up. I need to do it. I’m the King’s Ranger, and it’s my responsibility.”
Chapter Six
The first shards of dawn sparkled on the dew-damp grass behind the ranger station. The path the bandits had trampled was dark like a knife wound cutting across that brightness. Headed in the opposite direction was a slender path, one that he had walked with Tate’s body in his arms. The ranger was dead, and the thugs that had done it were dead as well. They’d paid the ultimate price for their crime, but it gave Rew no comfort. His friend was gone, and no amount of vengeance would bring him back.
Rew forced himself to look away from the path he’d trod to bury Tate and drew a deep breath of the crisp, new autumn air. He let it go, hoping his sorrow left with the wind. He’d served justice, and there was no use dwelling on it further. Tate wouldn’t have wanted him to. Neither of them could have known the three younglings would draw such awful violence, and there was nothing Rew could have done to stop the attack. Unless… unless it had been him instead of Tate. If Rew had been the one on watch, if he had relieved Tate instead of going to the Oak & Ash, talking to Anne, drinking ale… He forced the thought down. It was no use considering such things. He continued to breathe, taking in the cool air and letting it back out.
Minutes later, his newest ranger, Jon, stomped down the back stairwell of the station. The man wore a dark green woolen cloak and was hitching his pack high on his shoulders over it. A long, curved hunting knife hung on his belt, and he was fumbling with a longsword, trying to position it over his shoulder beside his pack where he could draw it.