The King's Spy (The Augur's Eye Book 2)

by Guy Antibes

  ~

  Whit took his shirt off and tossed it into a corner of his room. The bolt had ripped the back to shreds. He tried to look at his back in the small mirror on the dresser and couldn’t see much, but the bolt and the healing had made a thin, jagged scar on his back.

  He changed his clothes and walked down to the pub close to the inn with Yetti and Fistian. They sat down in a corner with Whit’s back to the wall. He didn’t want another back attack.

  “I’ll bet you are thirsty,” Yetti asked.

  “I am. Some light ale will go far to quench it.”

  “Healing does that,” the pixie woman said.

  “I don’t need healing, and I hope one tankard doesn’t go too far for me.” The gnome looked at Whit. “I’m sure you can pay tonight?” Fistian said hopefully.

  Whit guessed Fistian was in the mood to drink.

  A familiar face walked toward them. Whit turned to Yetti. “Be prepared. Jonny Evia is going to join us,” he said softly.

  Yetti stiffened for a moment, closed her eyes, and then relaxed.

  “That was quite a show at the scout field, on and off,” Jonny Evia said. He looked friendly enough. “Mind if I join you?”

  Whit nodded at an empty chair. Jonny took it. He leaned toward Yetti.

  “No mind reading,” he said. “Please relax.”

  Yetti nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You didn’t stick around long enough to know you won your second event.”

  Whit shrugged. “I didn’t play to win, I played to stay safe.”

  “And that didn’t work, did it?”

  Whit nodded. “I’m not accustomed to the intricacies of pixie manners.”

  “Obviously not. Those three pixies were very angry with you, I’m sure, more for changing their hair color than the bolts of revenge that you threw,” Jonny said. “I don’t think I’ve seen an elf perform pixie magic.”

  “I’m an extraordinarily versatile elf,” Whit said, drily. “What are you doing in Hammer?”

  “Following you. Ritta asked me to have someone keep an eye on you. I couldn’t think of anyone better than myself. You are headed toward Willet’s Bay?”

  Whit nodded. “We were given a week at a pleasure inn on the bay and thought we’d look over the shrine to Saint Varetta.”

  “The king wouldn’t see you?”

  The drinks were served, and Jonny asked for some kind of pixie wine.

  Yetti took a sip of ale. “We were able to meet him, but there are competing interests, and he put us off for a week or two, so we are headed south to the sea.”

  “I’ve never been to the ocean,” Whit said.

  “I went when I was younger,” Fistian said.

  “Instead of following, can I join you?” Jonny said. “You know I’m here, and I can look for other followers.”

  “There will be others,” Whit said, telling Jonny about the competing group. “They will eventually find out where we’ve gone.”

  “I grew up around Willet’s Bay where my village burned to the ground. It was in sight of the ocean,” Jonny said. “I can give you a tour of the shrine. Don’t get your hopes up. It’s more of a rockpile than a proper temple, but it is very old. Are you leaving to sightsee tomorrow morning?”

  “Right after breakfast,” Whit said.

  “I’ll join you on the road. Don’t worry about finding me a place at your pleasure inn. I still have family, so I’ll be staying with them.” Jonny drained his cup of wine and stood. “I’ll see you then.”

  Yetti turned to watch their uninvited guest leave the pub. “I still don’t trust him,” she said.

  “None of us should,” Whit said. “However, he might be useful. I don’t know anything about Varetta’s shrine. Maybe we can learn something valuable.”

  Fistian nodded and was already ready for another ale.

  Chapter Twenty

  ~

  W hit examined the medal that he won for winning a scout contest. It wasn’t particularly well designed, but he could discern the scout flying over a home tube on one side and the date scratched into the plain surface of the other.

  “A souvenir,” Gambol said leaning over to get a better look. Whit tossed it over. “No one will mistake this for a traveling team medal,” the professor said.

  “It’s the sentiment that counts,” Whit said with a smile.

  “And what sentiment is that?” Argien asked.

  “I won something. I’ll go down in history.”

  Argien laughed. “As winner of a promotional event between the second and third battles of a local scout match?”

  “Obscure history, then,” Whit said. “At least it is a souvenir that is easier to show someone than the scar on my back.”

  “And a lovely scar it is. Remind me not to get hit by a pixie electric bolt,” Argien said.

  “And you might want to skip the pixie healing,” Whit said.

  Gambol tossed the medal to Argien. “Ask Jonny Evia about the scars. Perhaps there is a pixie spell that can do something about it.”

  “Good idea.” Whit poked his head out the window, looking behind the carriage. There was the second one, and after that, Jonny rode fifty or more paces behind.

  “We will be at Willet’s Bay by twilight, if we aren’t delayed,” Gambol said.

  Argien leaned forward. “Why don’t you and I fly ahead when we are closer and find the inn.”

  Whit brightened. “I could use some easy flying. When we stop to rest the horses, we can ask Jonny for directions on the map.”

  When they stopped an hour later, Whit motioned Jonny over to the outdoor table where they refreshed themselves. He had ordered some pixie wine for Jonny.

  “You are too nice,” the pixie said as he savored the small cup of wine.

  Whit smiled. “Consider it payment for a few directions.” He pulled out the address of the pleasure inn. “Where is this along the bay?” Whit asked.

  “There,” Jonny pointed to a specific spot on the western edge of the bay.

  “And the shrine?”

  “Not quite so far west.” He put the tip of his forefinger along the bay’s curve. “It is inland about two miles, sitting at a crossroads.”

  “What can we expect at the pleasure inn?”

  Jonny squinted and took another sip. “I don’t know. It is a posh place, but I’m sure they don’t entertain foreigners very often. Few outsiders make it to Willet’s Bay.”

  “But it is a popular destination for pixies?” Gambol asked.

  “It is indeed. There are forests and meadows and sand and the sea. Everything a pixie needs to have fun.” Jonny said. “The pleasure inns are bonuses.”

  “What about fishing and boats?” Whit asked.

  “Professional fishing is done from the middle of the bay, but there are fisherman villages the length of the shore,” Jonny said. “You should have someone take you out, if you’ve never been on the water.”

  Whit thought that would be fun, but he wouldn’t show a lot of excitement to Jonny. “Argien and I are going to fly ahead so if the carriages get delayed, the inn will be expecting us.”

  Jonny nodded. “I’ll be leaving you before the inn or I’d help navigate, but the inn is on this road, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Whit hoped so, but he’d been surprised plenty of times in Perisia.

  “Let’s go, Argien,” Whit said.

  Argien and Whit took off from the rest stop and headed south, following the road until the edge of the sea appeared on the horizon. They flew a little higher, and Whit could see the curve of the coast.

  Argien pointed down at a cluster of buildings. It didn’t look like a village, so they dropped down and found they were in the midst of clusters of small hut-like rooms. They had found their pleasure inn.

  The main building of the establishment was at the end, closest to the ocean. Whit walked in with Argien and stepped to the counter in the big lobby.

  “I have reservations for my group,” Whit
said. He handed the document Pin had given him.

  The male pixie at the counter looked up at him. “We don’t serve elves.”

  “Did you see the name at the bottom of the letter?” Whit asked.

  “No, why should I?”

  Whit took a deep breath trying to quell the anger building up inside him. “Look again.” He watched the pixie’s eyes scan the document and widen when he read the signature.

  “I may have overspoken,” the pixie said.

  “I don’t quite know what overspoken means,” Whit said, “but does that mean we can stay here?”

  “Of course,” the pixie said. He consulted with a book filled with scribbles. “How many in your party?”

  “Seven,” Whit said. “Six males and one female pixie.”

  “What are their names?” the clerk asked.

  “What is your name?” Argien said, in a worse mood than Whit’s.

  The pixie grunted. “I won’t tell you. You should have had the pixie in your group come in here.” He went back to the book. “We have small clusters of individual villas, and there is one that should suit your needs. It is far from the dining facilities, but we will provide room service, if you have your pixie friend come to the main building and arrange an ongoing order.”

  “Thank you. Where can we put the carriages?” Whit asked.

  “The stable is behind this building, and the villas are on the other side of the stable.”

  Whit nodded and paid a deposit that would be returned when they left. He wondered if anyone else paid deposits. He’d have to have Yetti ask someone other than the clerk. He took the handful of keys and a few papers and left the main building to return to the group.

  At least they didn’t have any surprises when the carriages rolled through the gate to the stable. Pixie stable men and stable women saw to the horses and carried their bags into their respective rooms.

  The villas were as nice as any place they had stayed in Perisia. One of them was much larger than the others and had a large meeting room with a kitchen and a single bedroom with two large beds. Zarl grabbed that and shoved the beds together, satisfied with his room arrangement.

  Whit laid down on his pixie-sized bed and wished for another foot of length. He decided he might put the mattress on the floor and put a few cushions from the chairs to make a proper length. There was a stove in the room with a fountain outside in the center of the cluster, and all the rooms had their own washing up facilities.

  Once everyone was settled, Whit called them to meet in Zarl’s villa.

  “I’m hungry,” Fistian said. “Let’s go eat.”

  Whit held up a hand. “We aren’t allowed to eat with the pixies,” Whit said. “They put us in a place where there aren’t any other pixies.”

  “Except for me,” Yetti said.

  “Except for Yetti,” Whit said nodding to her. “We do get room service, but Yetti has to put in our order. Here is the menu.” Whit held up one of the sheets.

  They decided on what to eat and when for four days and sent Yetti to the main building. She returned with a red face and a crumpled menu.

  “They will send us the ingredients, and we will have to do our own cooking. Each villa has a small kitchen, but Zarl’s villa is meant to be the central meeting place for a large group and is where they will deliver the food. This is an outrage!” Yetti said.

  “The whole inn is an outrage, but as long as we aren’t bothered, it will suit our needs,” Gambol said. “The problem isn’t with us, but with them.

  “I agree with you there,” Razz said. “Are there restaurants around?”

  After pulling out the map, Whit discovered that the nearest village of any size was about three miles away. The nearest town was more than five by the river that emptied into the bay.

  “Remote,” Zarl said. “I suppose if I was here on vacation, I’d like a peaceful place.”

  “We get one if we want it or not. Perhaps we can do some planning after we’ve found Varetta’s shrine,” Whit said.

  Whit decided to exercise in the courtyard that was central to their cluster of villas along with Fistian and Gambol. In a few minutes, Razz and Argien joined them. Yetti came out to look at them work up a sweat, but Zarl decided to test the sleeping arrangements.

  Eventually, as the sunlight began to wither, a wheeled handcart appeared with their food. Gambol and Whit let the others continue and stocked the shelves in Zarl’s big kitchen. There was enough for dinner and breakfast. At least they brought along a small keg of ale and a few bottles of wine.

  Gambol looked at the supplies and nodded. “We can make this palatable,” he said.

  Razz and Gambol were the best cooks, and they got to work. Zarl stood at his bedroom door, rubbing his eyes and helped. Whit returned to his room and examined the map of Perisia. Tomorrow they had two goals, visit Varetta’s shrine and then see what Willet’s Bay looked like.

  ~

  After an evening meal fortified by the ale and wine, they all slept soundly, and Yetti fixed them a pixie-style breakfast with elvish-sized portions in the morning. Zarl had seconds, of course. They piled into their carriages and headed to the spot that Jonny had designated as Varetta’s shrine. On their way, Jonny joined them to take them the last mile up a rough road to the memorial.

  Whit was prepared to be disappointed and a good thing he was, since the shrine was little more than a collapsed heap of rotting timbers and stone behind a faded sign that announced to the world that Varetta was born someplace near.

  “Is there someone who could reconstruct this?” Whit asked. “I’ll pay for it. I’m not a religious person, but this is…”

  “A disgrace,” Jonny said.

  “Your words…” Whit said.

  “I can get it done if you fund it. It’s probably cheaper to rebuild.”

  “Then rebuild it, but with the same stones. The timber is almost pulp and we are standing on the thatch roof,” Whit said, looking down at the straw bits mixed in with the dirt.

  “A metal placard inside on a simple stone plinth would be sufficient.”

  “Nothing fancy,” Jonny said, nodding. “Who knows, it might bring in more tourists.”

  Whit nodded. “Ten feet by ten feet shouldn’t cost too much with a tile or stone roof.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Yetti said. “The locals won’t care if this disintegrates into nothing.”

  “I care,” Whit said, thinking back to his vision in Varetta’s temple. “I think Varetta might, too, if she was floating around somewhere, whatever the old saints do.”

  “Ghosts,” Zarl said.

  “We would call them wraiths,” Jonny said with a smile. “Something wearing white filmy rags with glowing red eyes.”

  “Just a faded image of her former self,” Whit said. “That’s my impression.” Whit continued to poke around, looking at the broken stones. “I can’t detect anything of interest, here,” Whit said. “Whatever made this special is long gone, and there is no mention of Eye parts this far south in Perisia.”

  “This place has been picked over for valuables lots of times.” He picked up a stone and tossed it back on the heap. “I’ve seen enough,” Razz said. “Let’s go somewhere fun.”

  “There are dunes on the other side of the bay,” Jonny said. “You’ve got the rest of the day. We’d hit the town of Willeton in time for lunch.”

  “Then the dunes it is?” Gambol asked Whit.

  “I’ve never seen dunes, so sure,” Whit said as they climbed back into the wagons.

  They drove around from the west end to the middle of the shoreline where a lazy river emptied into Willet’s Bay. A town with a modest wharf held about ten ships, as Whit counted. Jonny took them to a fish restaurant not far from the docks. Nets and floats decorated the walls of the half-filled restaurant.

  “Everything here is good, or it was fifteen years ago before I left for Garri,” Jonny said. “I am a little surprised it isn’t packed like I remember.”

  “M
aybe it is just today,” Fistian said.

  Whit wasn’t so sure, but they moved two tables together to fit their party, now eight with Jonny joining them. The server looked like a retired fisherman. “I appreciate your business,” the male pixie said. “It must be some coincidence. Another foreign party ate dinner here last night.”

  “Sky elves with a dark-haired human?” Whit asked.

  “You know them?” the server said.

  “We do. Did they ask you anything?”

  The server nodded. “They wanted to know where Saint Varetta was buried.”

  “And you told them?”

  “I did. Under her shrine along the coast to the east,” the server said.

  “Why did you tell them that?” Jonny asked, trying to hold back laughter.

  The server shrugged. “I figured it was something they wanted to hear. Are you interested in Varetta too? They paid me well for my information. If you pay me as much or more, I’ll tell you where she really is buried.”

  “Northeast of Garri,” Gambol said. “We’ve already been there.”

  Whit didn’t know if Varetta had even died. Something happened to her, but she wasn’t what he would call dead.

  “Oh,” the server said, sounding disappointed.

  “What is good today?” Jonny asked. “And don’t tell us something you’d think we’d like to hear.”

  “Lamb stew,” the server said. “My fish is a little old.”

  “Lamb stew, it is,” Whit said, hoping the lamb wasn’t too old as well.

  The stew wasn’t bad, and the bread was fresh. The server arrived with the fish ordered by Yetti and Zarl, and to Whit’s nose, he was glad he ordered the lamb.

  “Are there any rumors of ancient artifacts hidden around Willet’s Bay?” Jonny said.

  “Should there be?” the server said.

  Whit had to smile. The pixie was getting information so he could spin an answer back to them.

  “Yes,” Jonny said, winking at Whit. “My friends are on a vacation, but they are in Perisia looking for old artifacts.”

  “The other group is too?” the server said.