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

by Garrett Robinson

  Sun huffed and shook her head. “You could have told me about Kaita from the beginning.”

  Albern grinned at her. “What was it you said this morning? Every part of the story must be told in its proper turn, or the whole thing will collapse. You were quite right, though you hardly knew it.”

  “Dark take me for a fool,” growled Sun. “Had I known you would throw my own words back at me, I would never have spoken them. This conversation is not over, old man, but fortunately for you, I want to know what happened next more than I want to trounce you.”

  He chuckled and gave a nod. “Very well. Let us return to Tokana.”

  I stood in the ruined village, staring at Maia in horror and fury. But that only lasted a moment before I turned and stormed off towards the horses, Oku at my heels.

  “What is it?” Mag’s confusion was plain in her voice.

  “Where is he going?” said Maia.

  Mag did not answer, but I heard her footsteps behind me as she followed. Soon Maia joined her. He ran up beside me and tried to get in front of me.

  “Listen, friend, I do not know what—”

  He stopped as Mag snatched his arm and pulled him out of my way. “I do not know what is happening either,” she said. “But I would advise you not to try to touch Albern while I am present.”

  Maia frowned. “Albern?”

  Mag floundered for a moment. “Kanohari,” she said lamely. “I meant … oh, dark take it all, just get on your horse.”

  I ignored them both, swinging up into Foolhoof’s saddle and spurring him south. I rode hard, slowing only just enough for Oku to keep the pace. Soon I heard thundering hooves behind, and Mag and Maia drew close.

  “Albern!” she called out. “What is wrong?”

  I ignored her, and she seemed to give up on getting an answer. The three of us rode in silence all the way to Kahaunga.

  Farmers in the outlying fields stopped their work and straightened, staring at us as we galloped past. I do not know what went through their minds. Mayhap they thought we were rushing to deliver news of a fresh attack. But I paid them no more attention than I gave to Mag or to Maia. We hit the streets of the outer city. Thankfully they were clear, and I did not have to slow Foolhoof very much. But at last I had to pull to a stop at the gate of the Telfer keep.

  “Open the gate!” I called up.

  A guard atop the wall peered down at me in confusion. “Who under the sky are you to issue such an order?”

  “I am Albern of the family Telfer, and I have returned to my homeland,” I answered her. “Open the gate!”

  The woman’s eyes went wide with shock. She looked past me to Maia, who was just as surprised.

  “The family Telfer?” he said to me.

  I pulled down my sleeve and showed him our family’s mark. He stared at it in wonder for a moment, sighed, and looked back up at the gate guard.

  “For good or for ill, I think you had better do as he says.”

  That seemed good enough, and the guards hastened to open the gate. I spurred Foolhoof forwards as soon as it was high enough for me to avoid hitting my head. Once I reached the keep, I dismounted and left Foolhoof behind as I stormed up the steps. The doors stood open, and I passed through them to stalk down the wide entrance hall.

  “Albern,” said Mag. It was one of the few times in her life I had heard her sound nervous. “Are you certain about this?”

  “More certain than I have been about anything since we got here,” I growled.

  Two Telfer guards stood at the door to Ditra’s audience chamber. They stepped forwards, hands tightening on their spears as I approached.

  “Let him pass,” said Maia in resignation. “I am with him.”

  They did not look pleased about it, but they did as he said. I threw open the double doors as hard as I could, and they slammed against the stone walls on either side. Ditra sat on her chair atop the dais, and her head snapped up in shock as I entered. A small cluster of advisors huddled before her, and they, too, turned to stare at me in amazement.

  “Kaita!” I roared.

  Ditra’s eyes went wide. The guards at the edges of the room stepped forwards, ready to defend their lord. Among the councilors I spotted a woman in robes of Calentin colors—the king’s representative. She studied me with great interest.

  “Kaita!” I said again. “She is the weremage. And you knew. You knew! And you sent your ranger after her because you were afraid we would kill her.”

  The king’s representative looked up at Ditra with a faint frown. “Rangatira, who under the sky is this man?”

  Ditra ignored her. A flush crept up her neck into her cheeks as she stared at me. “How … how dare you—”

  “How dare I?” I cried. I advanced to stand at the foot of the dais, and the king’s representative hastily gave way before me. “You have the gall to ask how dare I? You are the Rangatira! You serve the king of Calentin and the High King of Underrealm. And you wanted to let a murdering witch escape justice just because you used to share her bed!”

  Ditra’s face went from crimson to nearly purple. She looked past me to Maia. “You allowed him in here? What were you thinking?”

  I lifted my arm and dragged down my sleeve. The Telfer mark shone against my skin. Ditra stared at it for a moment, speechless. And then I saw recognition flash in her eyes as she looked upon my face. Emotions, one after another, played in her expression. Joy, I think, at seeing me again. Despair that I had discovered her secret. And then, slowly dominating the rest, a cold, mounting fury.

  “You return here …” she said, the words grinding out of her like a blade on a whetstone. “You return after decades. Decades. You parade yourself in front of me, in plain sight but still skulking like a coward. And now you have the audacity to accuse me? Arrest them.”

  The guards began to come forwards.

  “We are not your enemies,” I said. “Kaita is. You know that, and yet you act to protect her. It is beneath you, Ditra.”

  “I am the Lord Telfer,” she snapped, shooting to her feet. “Rangatira of Tokana and servant of the king of Calentin. You are nothing. You gave up any right to speak to me thus when you fled our home. And now you may sit in a cell until I figure out what to do with you.”

  “That would be a poor idea,” said Mag, grip tightening on her spear.

  I sagged. All my fury had flowed out of me in my outburst, and suddenly I was very tired. I lifted a hand towards Mag. “No. Do not harm her servants. They are only doing their duty.” I glowered up at Ditra again. “Which is more than might be said of some.”

  While Ditra fumed, Mag spoke to me in a low voice. “Albern. I can keep us from going into a cell in the first place. But if she puts us there … no one can bend steel bars. Not even me.”

  “Then do what you must,” I told her. “As for me, it seems I am going to be imprisoned.” I raised my wrists, ready for the manacles that one of the guards had already pulled from a pouch.

  Mag rolled her eyes and did the same. But she smiled at the guards as they bound her. “You should enjoy yourselves. One day you will be able to brag to your children about capturing the Uncut Lady.”

  Ditra now seemed to be trying to avoid looking at us. The king’s representative seemed almost amused. “Is this man your brother, Rangatira?” she said. “The one who—”

  “Get out,” growled Ditra. “I will send for you when I require you.”

  The representative looked affronted. “But we were discussing—”

  “Get out!” roared Ditra. The representative jumped, and then she scurried out of the room like a chastised dog. The other councilors followed at her heels.

  I had not looked away from Ditra, and just before her guards dragged us off, she met my gaze at last.

  “We do not have endless time,” I said, all anger gone from my voice. “You have … we have both made mistakes. Speak with me again, so that we can fix them. Do not wait too long.”

  Her scowl deepened, and she turned it upon t
he guards. “Take them away. Then go into the city and find that old man they came here with. He can join them in their cell.”

  The guards spun us around and marched us from the room. Maia gave me a rueful smile just before they hauled me away.

  “That was very foolish of you,” said Sun. “Walking in there like that.”

  “It was,” said Albern sadly. “I was young, then, and youth comes with many poor ideas.”

  “You were older than I am now!”

  “Well, why do you think I keep such a careful eye on you?” When Sun scowled, he chuckled. “I am only joking. The truth is that it is easy to look back on our past actions—or the actions of others—and see how they were wrong. But we always think we are wise in the moment. No matter how old you get, you will always think you are smarter than you used to be. You will always look back at your younger years and marvel at what an idiot you were—but now, of course, you are wise, having learned so much more.”

  Sun shoved his shoulder. “I am not an idiot.”

  “And what about when you had seen only fifteen years?”

  “Oh, sky above,” said Sun, rolling her eyes. “That was different. You would not believe some of the things I got up to.”

  “And did you think you were a fool, then? Or did you think you were much wiser than you had been when you were ten?”

  Sun opened her mouth to reply, but she could think of nothing to say. Her jaw snapped shut, and she glowered at him.

  Albern shrugged. “I only tell you the truth as I know it. And I do not excuse myself. I can look back on the events I am telling you about and recognize what a hotheaded young fool I was. If I live another ten years, I am certain I will look back on today and feel the same way.”

  “Enough idle philosophy,” said Sun grumpily. “Where are we going?”

  They had passed back out beyond Lan Shui’s northern gate, but the town was not yet far behind them. The sun was lowering, nearly kissing the top of the western spur, and just starting to shadow the countryside. She could see the line of its shade advancing towards them as night approached, a great darkness sweeping over the land. It was a chilling sight.

  “Well, it seems there are some less-than-gentle folk plaguing Lan Shui again,” said Albern. “This time, though, they seem to be operating somewhere outside the town’s borders. We are not exactly certain where.”

  Sun frowned at him. “We?”

  “Why, you and I,” said Albern, cocking his head at her. “I apologize—I did not mean to dictate your own uncertainty to you.”

  “Oh no, please feel free,” said Sun, arching an eyebrow. “So how do we mean to find them?”

  “I do not know if you have heard, but I am something of a good tracker,” said Albern. “A wagon was ambushed not far from here just the other day, and I think we will be able to find our foes’ hideout by following the trail away from it.”

  “Why did we not see the location of the attack when we approached Lan Shui?”

  “There is more than one road leading into town. I wanted to see Dawan before I went to investigate the caravan.”

  “And who are these people, exactly?”

  He sighed. “Hopefully they are bandits.”

  “You do not sound very hopeful.”

  “That is because I do not think they are bandits.”

  Sun gave a small but very frustrated growl. “What do you think they are?”

  He seemed to be struggling for an answer, pursing his lips and looking around, as though he was searching his own mind for the right words. When he did speak, it almost sounded as if he was ignoring her question. “Do you remember the tree from my youth? The tall kauri?”

  “I … do,” said Sun, confused.

  “When I was young, I paid little attention to the lands of my home. I only watched the tree. It was always there. It changed slowly. It was a landmark, in more than one sense. Only when it was torn down was I finally able to look around and see how all the dale had changed around it.

  “The people of Lan Shui are the same. In fact, most people are. If one thing remains the same—a tree, a nation, a king—and if that thing is important enough to them, they think the world is hardly changing at all. Until one day their landmark changes at last, and they realize that things have been happening all along that they paid little heed to. It can be helpful to focus on one thing, one place, one person more than the rest. It anchors us. It can help us find ourselves when the world seems too chaotic, too frightening. But we must remain at least brave enough to keep looking at the world beyond our landmarks, to ensure that no danger threatens them—and that the landmarks themselves are still as we imagine them to be.”

  “And what does this have to do with my question?” said Sun.

  Albern pointed. “Look for yourself.”

  By the side of the road lay the remnants of a destroyed wagon. Sun had been so absorbed by Albern’s words that she had not noticed it. The planks looked to be scored and gouged by weapons, and Sun saw at least three arrows sticking out of them. Worse, there were several dark streaks in the dirt of the road. Sun was certain they were blood.

  Albern knelt to inspect the dark streaks. Then he went to the wagon, pacing all around it. At first he only looked without touching, but then he stepped closer, running his hand along the wood, peering closely at the grain, the gouges, the arrows. Sun did not know what he was looking at, but there was no hint of uncertainty in his movements.

  Then he stopped short, eyes narrowing. He knelt and leaned under the wagon. When he emerged and stood, he held a small piece of brown cloth, hardly any bigger than his hand.

  “What is that?”

  “It was the wrapping of a small packet,” said Albern, his tone grim. “They took what was inside.”

  “Or destroyed it.”

  “No, they took it.” Albern pointed. “The attackers fled that way. Do you see their tracks there, leading off into the foothills of the Greatrocks?”

  Sun stared at the spot. She could see nothing. She came to stand beside Albern, trying to view the spot from the same place.

  “I do not see any such tracks,” she said at last.

  Albern sighed. “Mag never did, either. Come along.”

  He set off in the direction he had indicated. Sun trailed along behind him. It was only then that she realized Albern had not brought his horse from the Sunspear. She guessed that he had left it behind so that the noise of its hooves would not betray their position. She began to walk more slowly, trying to make her footfalls as quiet as she could.

  Albern glanced back over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  Sun felt a blush creep into her cheeks. “I am trying to be quiet. I thought that was why you left your horse behind.”

  Albern smiled. “It is, but such measures are not yet necessary. Our prey is still a fair distance away. We can talk, if you wish.”

  “I do,” said Sun. “You keep hinting at these people and expecting me to assemble the hints into an answer. I would rather just hear it plain. Who are they? What are they after?”

  Albern shook his head. “I am not trying to trick you or deceive you, but to teach you. However, if you wish for an answer, here is the best one I have. They do not have a name that I am aware of. But they have some purpose here. I think, but do not know, that it is something evil—more evil than mere banditry. But because they are hiding it, because it is happening in the shadows and the silence, no one in Lan Shui is paying too much attention. They think they face only bandits. Bandits, themselves, are their own sort of landmark in the lives of the people of Lan Shui. That is an evil they can face, and so they would rather believe in bandits than seek the truth. ‘Only in watchfulness lies safety,’ said a Mystic to me once. But people do not remain watchful forever, and when they lapse, darkness gathers.”

  “That is not exactly an answer,” said Sun.

  “I wish I had a better answer to give you,” said Albern. “But failing that, I will continue the tale.”

 
Dryleaf did not seem particularly annoyed when they brought him to our cell, which was a courtesy I had no right to expect of him. He settled quite easily down onto the bench against the back wall, resting against the stone with a sigh. I sat opposite him, on the ground, my back against the iron bars. A quick glance around had told me that the rest of the cells were empty. I took that as a good sign. Ditra did not seem overly fond of jailing people for little reason, it seemed. I wondered if my mother had been any different. I had never bothered to spend much time inspecting the dungeons.

  “Well, this is all a great deal of foolishness,” said Mag lightly. She stood at the other end of the iron bars from me, leaning against them with her arms crossed, as though she were awaiting a delivery of barley to her inn.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Unabashed, reckless foolishness.”

  “It is.”

  “Now, Mag,” said Dryleaf kindly. “Do not be too harsh. Tomorrow is the first day of Yearsend, after all. A time for forgiveness.”

  “I find her words comforting, actually,” I said. “It is when she gets quiet, or tries to treat me too delicately, that I grow worried.”

  “Then I suppose I retract my scolding.”

  “So your sister and the weremage used to bed each other, did they?” said Mag.

  “They did,” I said. “They were young. Kaita started as Ditra’s retainer when she had seen only eighteen years, freshly returned from the Academy, and she is only a year or two older than Ditra. I cannot believe I did not recognize her in Northwood. There was a twinge at the back of my mind, but I never—”

  “None of that,” said Mag. “It was long ago. Your sister did not recognize you, her own brother. Why should you recognize someone you barely even knew?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Mag, I … this means something.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I mean … in Northwood. We both thought Kaita was after you. We thought she bore some grudge against you, though we did not know what. But she was never after you. She was trying to get to me. When she attacked, I shoved you out of the way, and she killed Sten instead.” I looked up at her, tears shining in my eyes. “But she was never aiming for you. It was me all along.”