Iron Paladin

by Max Irons

  “To get you out, Arlana wants me to go with her to Raya. There’s a diplomatic mess she needs to sort out,” Galeron said.

  “It sounds like this didn’t cost you much,” Lonni said. “A new job and everything.”

  “You’re coming, too,” said Galeron. “She wants us both down there.”

  Lonni inhaled, opened her mouth, and stopped short. She glanced about and then snarled, “You agreed to that without asking?”

  “It was time-sensitive,” Galeron said. “I didn’t get a chance to ask before it came up.”

  “Why, blast it, would she want me? What are you doing with her?”

  Galeron sighed. “I’ll give you the details later. We’re going to Keenan Caffar, also the seat of mage power, and a lot of folk aren’t too happy with Broton.” He shrugged. “Think about it.”

  A guttural rumble emerged from her throat, but she said nothing.

  “It’s a sound strategy,” Galeron said.

  “If you think good diplomacy is arriving with a firelock in one hand and a flower in the other,” Lonni said.

  “That is good diplomacy,” he said, clamping down hard on a laugh.

  Lonni sniffed and turned back to her food. Galeron tore into the rest of his meal, keeping his enthusiasm restrained, even though his stomach demanded he inhale everything as fast as possible. He polished off the last vestiges of turnips and set his fork down with a satisfying clink. Despite the headaches that royalty brought with it, at least good food followed in their wake.

  “You didn’t touch the wine,” Lonni said.

  Galeron cast the goblet a disparaging look. “I don’t like losing control.”

  She scratched the bridge of her nose. “Were you a drunk once?”

  Ouch. Right to the point. “No, but drinking as an informer is a good way to die.”

  “That limits your options,” Lonni said.

  He shrugged. “A lifetime of lemon drink is far better than a knife in the back. I’m partial to knowing what I’m doing at all times.”

  “Has anyone told you you’re a very nervous person?” she asked.

  “Being suspicious doesn’t mean someone isn’t out to kill you.” Might as well accept that phrase now. He was about to dive back into that kind of life again.

  She shook her head. A few more minutes passed, and then Arlana rose from the head of the table.

  “My thanks, baron, for your hospitality, but we must be going,” she said. Galeron got to his feet and stood off to one side as Arlana swept by. “Collect your lady friend, Galeron. We can dawdle later.”

  Lonni’s face darkened. “I am not your—”

  He grabbed her arm. “Come on, before someone starts thinking it through,” he whispered.

  She wrenched her limb from his grasp. “I can stand on my own.”

  This was starting off well. He and Lonni followed Arlana out, that sinking feeling growing worse in Galeron’s gut. The guards bowed low once more as they passed by, but a familiar face stood at the foot of the stairs.

  “Captain Marlowe,” Arlana drawled. “I would say I’m surprised to see you, but who else would my brother send?”

  Marlowe inclined his head, though he didn’t move out of the way. He stood in full battle dress as he had the previous afternoon, feet slightly apart and hands folded just above the base of his spine.

  “Your highness,” he said. “May I ask where you are taking Miss Tomkin?”

  “The woman? I need to borrow her for a bit,” Arlana said. “I have some business that demands her expertise.”

  “That may be so, but my orders come from the king,” Marlowe said. “She isn’t to leave the keep until the guard departs for Harracourt.”

  “Your orders are exactly that?” asked Arlana. “No more, no less?”

  Marlowe frowned and nodded. “Yes, highness. Collect Miss Tomkin, keep her here, and then take her with us when we leave.”

  Arlana smirked. “My brother should know better than to give such vague orders, captain. I suggest you take about a month or so to fetch your horses, as Soren hasn’t seen fit to give you a timetable for your return.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that, highness,” Marlowe said.

  “No? It seemed clear to me,” she said. “Tell me, captain, would you keep her in your sight at all times as you gather the mounts?”

  “It is doubtful.” Marlowe shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “Then, whether it takes you one hour or one month, you wouldn’t see Miss Tomkin, would you?” Arlana asked.

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “There you go. My brother’s orders are intact, and I still take her with me.” Arlana rolled her shoulders. “Is there anything else, captain?”

  Marlowe frowned. “The king will not like this.”

  “I suppose he won’t,” Arlana said. “The tale Baron Heuse will tell, should Soren ask, is that Miss Tomkin is ill and in no condition to travel.”

  “How did she convince the baron to say that?” whispered Lonni.

  Galeron raised his eyebrows. “Barons are easily dazzled by royalty, especially if it’s her.”

  Lonni snorted and folded her arms under her breasts. “Men.”

  “As you say, your highness,” said Marlowe. His frown deepened, but he said nothing else and shifted away from the stairwell.

  Arlana swayed down the last few steps, and they exited into the twilight.

  CHAPTER SIX

  That had been too easy. Galeron walked behind Lonni and Arlana as they moved back to Rand’s shop. They’d just walked into the baron’s keep, asked nicely for Lonni, and, with a little bit of Arlana’s smooth wordplay, had strode out with her. Maybe he was just being suspicious. Having a princess in company did smooth things a bit. He and Iven never had that kind of authority or influence, but the nagging feeling remained.

  Rand and Corinna waited for them outside the shop. Lonni threw herself into her father’s arms, and Galeron headed for the lean-to. Time to get Iven caught up, if he wasn’t already. He found him cinching up traveling packs on top of an anvil. Iven gave him a bloodshot grimace.

  “Back to normal?” asked Galeron.

  Iven winced. “You don’t have to shout about it, but yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Good. How much did Rand tell you?”

  The archer shrugged. “We’ve got a job in Raya, something about a princess and Lonni, and getting paid well.” He paused. “That last bit might have been my own interpretation, but a man can hope.”

  Galeron nodded. “Pretty much. I’ll explain the details later.”

  “Got us a ship?”

  He jerked his head back to Arlana. “She’s got one already.”

  Iven stared at her for a moment. “That’s—Galeron that’s…”

  Arlana arched an eyebrow. “Mmm, what’s the matter, archer? Do you like what you see?”

  Iven swallowed and allowed his eyes to trace her figure. “I—I—”

  She laughed. “Don’t take too long gathering your things, Lord Porter. We have much to discuss.” To Galeron, she said, “I’m going to ensure our captain is ready to sail. Do hurry along.”

  Arlana sauntered out of the lean-to and vanished around a corner. Iven’s gaze tracked her as she went, and he kept staring out long after she’d gone. Galeron sighed. Right. He hadn’t actually told Iven about Arlana. Well, he knew now, anyway.

  “Yes, that was Princess Arlana,” he said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  Iven blinked. “I didn’t know…did you see her?”

  Galeron rubbed his forehead. “It’s an act, Iven. She’s in disguise.” Partially. Princess behavior was probably the real disguise, but that wasn’t important.

  “I’ve been wasting my time on tavern wenches,” Iven said.

  Galeron waved a hand in front of his face. “Focus. She wouldn’t even give you a second glance, anyway.”

  He winced. “Good thing you were an informer and not a diplomat.”

  “Nothing to do with yo
u and everything to do with her,” Galeron said. He poked Iven in the sternum, finally drawing his gaze. “Besides, the pretty ones are always trouble.”

  “How would you know?” asked Iven. “You’d have to have bothered with a pretty one.”

  “Just finish.”

  Galeron tied up his bedroll and slung it over one shoulder with his leather satchel, glancing about to ensure he hadn’t left anything behind. Iven grunted behind him, accompanied by the deep thrum of his bowstring.

  “Needs waxing,” he said.

  “Take care of it on the ship,” Galeron said.

  His stomach churned at the thought. Already getting seasick, and they hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “Got your bucket?” asked Iven.

  Galeron scowled. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Ever since that job with the Han—”

  “I know. I know.” He shook his head. “The trip to Raya’s much shorter, and it’s along the coast.”

  They walked out of the lean-to and into the shop. Rand stood next to a few empty barrels holding Corinna against him with one arm. Her cheeks puffed up with every exhalation, and her bloodshot eyes landed on Galeron the instant he and Iven came close. Lonni was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she was upstairs.

  “You said you would take care of it,” she said. “But Lonni is still bound for Harracourt.”

  Galeron kept his face stone-like. Technically true, but he’d bought time for all of them. Besides, if he played Arlana’s game, it might give him leverage on Soren.

  “It’s better than nothing,” he said. “There are still a lot of things at work.”

  Corinna glared at him, but Rand patted her on the back. “Come now. We must let Galeron work. If not for him, Lonni would have left already.”

  “If not for him, the king would never have wanted her in the first place.”

  Ouch. Understandable, though.

  “My love, that’s not a fair statement,” Rand said.

  “But it is true.” She bit her lip. “You, Galeron Triste, are a dangerous man to work with.”

  Also true, but did she have to point that out?

  Iven grunted. “The world’s not a nice place, and we didn’t have to go out of our way for Lonni.” He shrugged his unburdened shoulder. “If it weren’t for Lonni’s crack shots, we wouldn’t be here to keep Soren from running off with her.”

  “Before we get too excited about drawing attention to ourselves,” Rand put in as Corinna opened her mouth, “we both know Lonni would have created a fuss at some point. It was only a matter of time.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of creating a fuss, Papa.”

  Lonni appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in her battle garb. Her brown dress, divided for riding, looked to be made of the same cloth as his arming doublet, though not quite as padded. A black leather brigandine wrapped around the vital areas of her chest, forearms, and legs. She hadn’t bothered to tie up her bronze hair, though, and both pistolettes hung from holsters at each hip.

  “Took you long enough,” said Iven.

  She snorted and grabbed her satchel from the countertop. “I’m impressed you got your things together at all. How do you see through that ale haze?”

  “It’s a mead haze, and I slept it off,” Iven said. “Most of it.”

  Lonni embraced her parents, whispered her goodbyes, and headed for the shop’s door. Rand exchanged grips with Galeron and Iven, his face drawn and smiled forced.

  “Take care of her,” he said to Galeron.

  He nodded. “You know I will.”

  “Bah, compared to last time, this is a holiday venture,” Iven said. “At least this time we won’t blow anything up, take on a mage single-handed or…” His voice trailed off. “Actually, forget that. I can’t remember a trip with Galeron that didn’t involve an explosion, or mind-numbing peril, or—”

  “That’s not helping,” Galeron said.

  “She won’t be bored.” Iven grinned. “That I can promise.”

  Rand sighed. “I’m not sure there’s anything to say.”

  “Bring her back,” Corinna said. “That’s what we can say.”

  “We will,” Galeron said.

  “Then good luck on your journey,” Rand said.

  They walked out of the shop, Corinna’s eyes boring into the backs of their skulls. The door thudded in its frame, and Galeron breathed a sigh of relief.

  Lonni frowned at him. “What did they say?”

  Iven rolled his eyes. “The usual. Don’t commit treason, don’t start any wars, and so on. Honestly, how are we going to have any fun?”

  “Just to be careful,” Galeron said, ignoring Iven.

  They walked down the moonlit streets toward the docks. Orange spheres bobbed around patrolling city watch, and off in the distance, a bell tolled out the quarter-watch mark.

  “Are we leaving in the dark?” asked Lonni. “What madcap captain did you get to agree with that?”

  “Arlana is very…persuasive,” Galeron said.

  “Oh, that escaped my notice,” she said, raising her chin slightly. “You seemed very free with her.”

  Galeron bit back a scowl and settled for a look of mild annoyance. “It’s part of the training. Informers or shadestalkers aren’t allowed to address her with formal titles, bow, or show a great deal of deference.”

  “Why not?” asked Lonni.

  “It’s a giveaway,” Galeron said. “Back during the wars, we lost a lot of good people. Arlana herself actually ran the informer web for about a year, and if the Delktians had known where she was, they’d have made a great effort to capture her.”

  He shoved a few memories back under conscious thought. Blasted war would be with him the rest of his life.

  “I don’t trust her,” Lonni said.

  “Good. You shouldn’t.”

  She blinked. “You agree?”

  Galeron sighed. “Arlana has a unique view of the world. I don’t really know how to explain it, but whatever she says is probably only a half-truth, and that’s being polite about it.”

  “So, you naturally decide to take a job with her,” Lonni said. “That makes sense.”

  “I owed you.”

  She bit her bottom lip and punched him in the arm. “You’re the worst sell-sword I’ve ever met.”

  “You’re welcome,” Galeron grumbled.

  “Don’t tell our clients that,” Iven said. “It’s bad for business.”

  They arrived at the darkened form of the Bonnie Fair a while later. A deckhand guided them up the gangplank by lantern light and ushered them back to Arlana’s quarters.

  “This is the tub we’re sailing on?” asked Iven as the deckhand knocked on the door. He put a hand over his stomach. “I might end up seasick, too.”

  “Stop complaining,” Lonni said. “It isn’t that bad.”

  The door to Arlana’s quarters opened, and the deckhand ushered them inside. “We’re casting off shortly, my lady,” he said.

  Arlana, lounging in one of the captain’s plush chairs, nodded and waved her hand. “Galeron, it’s good of you to finally join us.”

  He exhaled sharply. “We didn’t take that long.”

  She shrugged and stood up, stretching and contorting her body into very interesting shapes.

  Galeron mentally slapped himself. Now is not the time to get distracted. He thumped Iven, who had no such qualms, on the back, drawing his attention away.

  “What was—”

  Galeron shook his head. “Let’s not go there.”

  “You’re both animals,” Lonni hissed.

  “Have you told them what we’re doing?” asked Arlana.

  “Not yet,” he said. “There hasn’t been much of a chance.”

  Arlana squinted one eye at Lonni. “Lord Porter will know the details soon enough, but I think we should exclude the firespeaker. I don’t know her, and I don’t trust her.”

  “Out of the question,” Galeron said. “You might not trust her, but I do. How much is my instinc
t worth to you?”

  “What we’re discussing is rather…sensitive.” Arlana smiled. “Does she really want to hear the gruesome details? Can she be trusted not to reveal secrets under torture?”

  “She has excellent hearing,” Lonni spat. “And she also happens to be in the room.” She eyed Arlana with a gaze that could’ve frozen the harbor. “You asked for me.”

  “Oh, on the contrary, it was your lover who so insisted,” Arlana said.

  “He is not my—”

  “Ignore it, Lonni,” Galeron said. “If you’ve got things to say, Arlana, just say them, but leave your manipulation out of it.” His eyes narrowed. “They are under my protection.”

  Lonni seethed and grumbled something about not needing protection, but Arlana chuckled and spread her arms wide. “Take seats, then.”

  Galeron dropped his pack and pulled up one of the wood-backed chairs, unbuckling his sword before sitting down. Iven and Lonni followed his lead. Arlana retrieved a few pieces of parchment from the table before reseating herself as well. She quickly brought Lonni and Iven into the fold regarding the deaths of Princess Carys and Fletcher Raison.

  “What are we doing here, then?” asked Lonni.

  “What do you mean?” asked Galeron.

  “This isn’t a matter for sell-swords or me,” she said. “This is why we have diplomats. Aren’t they supposed to sort out such messes?”

  “The diplomat is the mess,” Arlana said.

  “He should have known better than cavorting with a princess,” Lonni said.

  “The situation is unfortunate,” Arlana agreed.

  Unfortunate that he got caught, you mean. Galeron kept his mouth shut. Interjecting on either side wouldn’t help anyway. Lonni would just have to learn the hard way about informer webs.

  “We are on delicate ice,” Arlana said. “The Rayan crown wants a public display, someone to blame for the princess’s death. We are fortunate, then, that Fletcher died with Carys.”