The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4)

by Garrett Robinson

  “You … are you the Uncut Lady?” she asked.

  Mag scowled. I strangled a bark of laughter before it could break free. “I am Mag, if that is what you mean.”

  “Sky above,” said the boy. He came to me, extending a hand. “Well met, friends. And what is your name?”

  I am afraid I looked quite thunderstruck. It was Mag’s turn to hide her laughter. “You mean Victon never told you about me?”

  They both looked embarrassed, and the boy slowly drew back his hand. “He … he might have?” he said, making it sound like a question. “Only not well enough that we would know you by sight.”

  “I am Albern,” I said. They both blinked. “Albern of the family Telfer?” I said, struggling mightily to hide a note of desperation.

  At last the girl’s face lit, and she smiled. “Oh, of course! The Uncut Lady’s follower!” She turned to her brother. “You remember. He was the one who ran away from the bear.”

  “What?” I rather shrieked.

  The boy, who appeared not to have heard me, burst out into laughter at the girl’s words. “Oh, him! Sky save me, Father always makes me laugh when he tells those sorts of stories.” He extended his hand again. “Well met, Albern. I am Nuru of the family Victon, and this is my sister, Zuri.”

  “Well met,” said Mag, recognizing that I was quite incapable of speech for the moment, though I did take Nuru’s hand and shake it. “You know the two of us already, and our elderly companion is called Dryleaf.”

  “And are you an old friend as well?” said Zuri. “I do not recall Father mentioning you in his stories.”

  “I am sorry to say I am not,” said Dryleaf, who was still wiping away tears of strangled laughter at my reaction. “Though from everything I have heard, as well as your excellent manners, I think I will enjoy meeting your father to a rare extent.”

  “Come with us,” said Nuru, gently taking the bridle of Mag’s horse, Mist. “Father will be overjoyed to see you.”

  “It will be our pleasure,” I managed to growl. Zuri approached Foolhoof, and the dark-taken gelding actually nuzzled into her outstretched hand. “Oh, have you decided to forsake me, too?” I asked him.

  Zuri looked up at me, aghast. “What?”

  “The horse,” I said, dismounting and letting her take the reins. “Never mind me. Thank you.”

  The house was large, but not opulently so. The walls were light brown stone, but the roofs were curved red tile, which I had not often seen outside of Dorsea. It made for a wonderfully attractive combination, especially with the great wooden doors through which Victon’s children led us inside the house.

  Victon was napping, and so we met his wife, Nuri, first. She was positively radiant, with a round waist and eyes that danced, her skin even darker than her children’s. She was delighted when they introduced us, and she went to fetch Victon as soon as we had finished our greetings. When he emerged, still blinking bleary eyes from sleep and leaning heavily on his crutch, his face beamed with a smile that burst into laughter as he saw us.

  “Sky save me if I expected this today!” he said, coming forwards and seizing us in a hug. “What are the two of you doing here? I thought you were both living in Selvan.”

  That cast a shadow over our mood, and he saw it. His own smile faded a little as he watched ours die.

  “We were,” said Mag. “Much has changed.”

  He looked us both over, taking note of Dryleaf. I suspected he was looking for Sten. They had never met, but of course Mag would have mentioned him in her letters.

  “I can see that,” said Victon at last. His smile returned now—still happy, but somewhat more weary. “Well, come in. We are about to eat. I shall fill you with food and flood you with wine, and we shall talk of what we must, and what we can, and what we wish.”

  Rarely have I enjoyed a meal so much. The courses were a mixture of Calentin food and dishes from Victon’s homeland of Feldemar. First we ate sour flatbread and sweet potatoes, but dipped in a delicious sauce made from beef grease and filled with spices. Then the beef itself came, smoked with manuka wood and cooked with whitefish, soft and tender and soaking in still more sauce. With it came plates of greenshell oysters, dipped in pepper and garlic.

  I remember every bite of that meal to this day. I can see Oku, who waited patiently at the side of the room until I offered him a morsel of food. He trotted forwards to eat it gently from my fingers. Mag fed him as well, but only when she thought I was not looking, which of course I was. Victon called Oku to him at one point, and the hound came obediently.

  “A finer wolfhound I have never seen,” said Victon, holding Oku’s face between his weathered hands. “Who has ever seen such a well-mannered boy? Not I, no, not I.” Oku nuzzled his hands and licked his face, and Victon laughed and asked the kitchen to give him whatever bones they might have. Oku lay happily in the corner for the rest of the meal.

  I remember, too, the wine, which was not only plentiful, but among the best I have ever tasted. It was just sweet enough for you to drink it in great swallows, and more than heady enough to send us into peals of laughter at even the slightest joke. It was dark and smoky, with the faintest hints of charcoal that mingled perfectly with the well-smoked meats we ate. I had a few glasses, and I am positive Mag had more than a bottle. Wine and ale had never had much effect on her.

  The food I remember. The conversation, however, comes to me now in bits and snatches. We told Victon of Northwood, and what had happened to Sten. Then we told him of our journey through the Greatrocks, of the satyrs we found there, and of all that happened in Lan Shui. When we told them of the vampires, Victon’s face paled, and his wife reached over to clutch her son’s arm.

  We finished our stories around the same time that the whole table finished their meal, and we all leaned back in our chairs, groaning pleasantly at the tight feeling in our guts. I looked to Victon.

  “I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed myself so thoroughly, old friend. Barely half the day has passed, and yet I wish I could lie down.”

  “But you can,” laughed Victon. “I have a room for just such a purpose. Walk with me a moment, and I will show you my land, and then we can rest.”

  He walked us out of the back of the house and pointed at the different plots, telling us the different sorts of grapes he had, which I am sure are important to a vintner, but which I cannot remember at all. In the middle of the fields were built a series of houses, each seeming just as grand as Victon’s own. When we asked him who lived there, he smiled.

  “Why, those who work the fields with us, of course.”

  “They must be grateful to you, for building them such fine homes,” said Mag.

  Victon cocked his head at her with a wry look. “Grateful to me? They built those homes on their own. I only helped a little.”

  Mag seemed somewhat at a loss. “Forgive my mistake. I thought the field hands were your servants.”

  Victon laughed at that, slapping one hand against his hip and the other against his crutch. “Servants? Giving and taking orders? Sky above, Mag, have we not had enough of that in our lives? We make the wine together. We sell the wine together. We live together. Some even bed together when they think their parents are not looking—is that not right, Nuru?” He took his son’s arm and gave it a little shake.

  “Father, please,” said Nuru, blood rushing into his cheeks.

  “The only trouble we have tending our fields,” Victon went on, “is when he and one of the Turei boys suddenly go missing. But we always find them before too long, and their cheeks are a little rosier when we do.”

  “Father!” cried Nuru, aghast.

  Victon laughed harder and led us all back into the house. He brought us to a room full of couches, each of which was laid with many tasseled pillows, and we lay down as we continued to talk. I learned that Nuru was an ander man, like me. He had come to realize he was ander much younger than I had—I was a bit of a special case, for it usually happens in childhood. The two of us spent
a good deal of time speaking privately of our wendings, and all the other little details that only another ander person can truly understand.

  Sometimes Dryleaf would be reminded of one of his stories, and then he would tell it. He was better at it than any of us. We listened attentively whether he spoke or sang, and he made Victon’s family weep with the beauty of the songs he gave them, so ancient that I had never heard them before, and rendered in the high speech that had once been common in the courts of the nine kingdoms. We talked until dinner, and then we talked all throughout that meal—even better than lunch had been, and with still more wine—and then we talked for a good long while afterwards.

  But sometime in the evening, when the sun had long since set and the moons were making their intrepid way across the sky, we came to business. Victon’s children had long since gone to bed—Nuru somewhat sooner than Zuri, for I had spotted another boy lurking outside the room, beckoning to him. It was only the five of us now, and Oku in the corner, of course. Mag sat up on her couch. Victon and Nuri rose as well, sensing the mood in the room shift.

  “Victon,” said Mag. “This day has been the best of long memory. I have not Dryleaf’s gift with words, nor even Albern’s, and so I cannot tell you what a balm it has been to all of us after the long road that brought us here. But we did not come here only for a visit, however long overdue that might have been.”

  He sighed, leaning forwards to scratch at the stump of his leg. “Well, of course not. That would have been a long journey to make to see my ugly old face.” Nuri reached over and slapped his arm lightly, and he grinned. “Tell me, my friends. What do you need?”

  “We told you of the weremage,” I said. “We are hunting her here in Opara. We know she still works with these Shades, and we think she came here to join more of them.”

  Victon frowned and scratched at his stubble. “I have heard nothing of any rogue weremage. Nor have I heard of these Shades. I did not even know about Northwood; there was some rumor of an attack on Selvan, but I took that for Dorsea’s usual malcontence. What could bring them here? Opara may stand on the border, but it is hardly a hub of trade.”

  “The Shades have long been devising a plan both hidden and evil,” said Dryleaf. “We should not presume it will be easy to guess at.”

  Victon reached over to take Nuri’s hand. “I suppose I was a fool to think I was done with war forever.”

  “You still can be,” said Mag. She left her chair to kneel before him, putting her hands on his leg. “We will take care of this matter. You left your fighting days behind you.”

  “So did you,” said Victon. Then he chuckled and pounded on his stump with one hand. “But I suppose there is more than one reason I should not return to the field.”

  Nuri’s brows lifted. “Not to mention the fact that your wife might kill you if you tried.”

  “Another fair point, and one I had not considered,” said Victon. “Yet I may still be of some use. I may not know where to start looking for your renegade wizard—but I know the person who will know where to look. It happens that I am acquainted with Conrus of the family Matara.”

  I squinted, thinking, before I recalled the name. “The Rangatira? It … might not be wise for us to speak with him.”

  “Oh?” said Victon, looking vaguely alarmed. “Are you in some trouble with the King’s law?”

  “No,” I said. “But I do not wish my return to Calentin to be widely known, especially among the nobility.” I had known Conrus when I was very young. That was a long time ago, and I had had my wending since, but still I did not like the thought of presenting myself to him.

  “Yet we could hardly ask for better assistance than we would get from a border lord,” said Mag. “Worry not, Albern. I will do most of the talking.”

  “And I will visit him with you,” said Victon. “He has been expecting a bottle of my special reserve for about a week now. I meant to entice him to visit, but it seems fate has given me a better use for an unpaid favor.”

  “Fate,” I laughed, like a fool. “If you say so, old friend.”

  “But come,” said Nuri. “It is far too late for you to make your way back to the city tonight. You must stay here with us, and the lot of you can go in the morning.”

  We made all the right sounds of protestation, but she did not have to work very hard to persuade us. Nuri set us up in some of the finest rooms in their very fine house, and we slept even better than we had at the inn the night before.

  Nuri woke Mag, Dryleaf, and me just after sunrise. We broke our fast with her and Victon. I had a slight headache after all the wine, and Dryleaf looked to be feeling even more delicate, but none of the others seemed any worse for wear.

  Our meals were done, and we were picking through the remains of the tastiest morsels left when Victon clapped his hands. “We shall make for the Rangatira first thing,” he proclaimed. “I readied one of my finest bottles last night before I went to sleep.”

  “Will you be accompanying us?” Dryleaf asked Nuri, who was sitting beside him.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Do you wish for me to?”

  He lifted her hand to kiss it. “How could I wish for anything but more of your astonishingly beautiful company?”

  That made Nuri giggle, even as she shook her head. “I could ask no greater compliment, for the blind see the only sort of beauty I have ever cared about. But no, I have many duties here, and I will be little help to you.”

  When we were ready, we left the house. In the front courtyard we found that the horses had already been brought from the stable, as well as a horse for Victon. Nuru and Zuri were there, and they grinned at us as we emerged into the strengthening daylight.

  “A good morn to you all,” said Nuru. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Wonderfully,” said Dryleaf. “And I thank you for your courtesy.”

  “Mag,” said Victon, “will you do me the honor of helping me to the saddle? I learned how to do it myself after the leg, but it is still easier with help. And I could ask for no greater honor than being squired by the Uncut Lady.”

  “Squired, is it?” said Mag with a wry smile. “Of course I will.”

  She took his belt and helped heave him up, while I went to aid Dryleaf. Once the two of them were mounted, Mag went to her mare, and I went to Nuru, who was holding Foolhoof’s reins. The gelding eyed me suspiciously.

  “Did he give you any trouble?” I asked Nuru.

  “Not a bit,” said Nuru. “He was most well behaved.”

  “Oh, you will obey others, will you?” I said, glaring at Foolhoof even as I rubbed his nose.

  He snorted on me, and a bit of phlegm splattered on my hand.

  “Do you see?” I asked Nuru, shaking it away. “This is what I must suffer through.”

  Nuru laughed. Then he held forth a hand. I took his wrist and shook. “It was an honor to meet you, as well as a pleasure,” he said. “I am always pleased to meet another ander person, and more so when they are a companion of the fabled Uncut Lady. And a stalwart warrior in their own right,” he added quickly, as I gave him a sour look.

  “Well spoken, at least at the end,” I told him. “Mag has stayed in touch with your father over the years, but I have not. I will do so from now on. And once I have a place where he can send me letters, I would be most pleased to hear from you as well.”

  The boy’s face split in a brilliant grin. “I promise I shall write until you are sick of me.”

  I laughed and climbed atop my horse. With Victon leading the way, we rode from his home towards the city. The streets were nearly empty, for it was not yet time to go to market, and all the farmers were already out in the fields. Victon took us to our destination with the unswerving air of one who had made this journey many times before.

  In the center of Opara stood the Rangatira’s keep. It was surrounded by a strong stone wall, the back side of which pressed close to the river. Guards patrolled the top of the wall, but they had the sluggish look of soldiers who almost wishe
d for trouble, simply so they would have something to do.

  The guards opened the gate once Victon explained why he had come. I looked down at Oku.

  “Kip, boy,” I said.

  Oku looked up at me and whined.

  “I am sorry. But we will return soon.”

  He trotted off to the side of the gate and lay there, watching as we vanished through it. Attendants took our horses, and Victon led us to the great doors of the keep, which also stood open. A page there raised her chin and looked upon us expectantly.

  “I have come to see the Rangatira, bearing a gift I promised him,” said Victon, raising the bottle of wine. “And I speak on behalf of my friends here, who have come to beg a boon.”

  The page looked us over. “Very well. We will take your weapons.”

  “Of course,” I said, unbuckling my sword. I left my bow, for it was unstrung, hanging on my saddle. Mag looked somewhat disgruntled, but she handed over her spear and shield. The page handed the weapons to a doorman before leading us into the keep’s great hall.

  There were tapestries on the walls inside, as well as many fine weapons with gold inlay—pieces for ceremony and show, but they looked fit for battle if need be. Lord Matara clearly had not forgotten his primary purpose as an agent of war. The furniture was solid and sturdy even when it was beautiful, and the doors looked well-kept and easy to bar against intrusion. Through the hall we were led and into a small chamber off to the right. There were many cushioned chairs inside, and the page beckoned us in.

  “I will deliver your request to Lord Matara,” she said. “He is in council at the moment. You will be summoned when he is ready.”

  Mag looked exasperated, but I spoke quickly before she could express it. “Of course,” I said. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  She gave a thin-lipped nod and vanished, closing the door behind her. I helped Dryleaf over to one of the chairs and eased him down into it.

  “Oh, this is a fine seat,” he said with a sigh. “Though not as fine as your couches, Victon.”