Vassal of El

by Gloria Oliver

  The man Torren had seen earlier in the kitchen appeared, an antagonistic look on his face whenever he glanced in his direction.

  “I need for you to go find the guard. Tell them we have a riot, anything you have to, but make them come back with you. Do it now.”

  Kyran nodded in surprise and slipped past Torren, after one last glare, into the night. Sal watched him then turned to go back into the common room. Picking up his pack, Torren followed. Sal headed behind the bar and, from a shelf near the bottom, removed a long object wrapped in cloth.

  “Didn’t think I’d ever have need of this again, but thought I’d keep it handy just in case. There’s nothing like a little excitement to spice up life.” He unwrapped the bundle and revealed a sheathed broadsword. He pulled the blade and laid it down on top of the bar. He stared out at the ten or so customers still there.

  “Sorry, folks. Looks as if a bit of trouble is coming our way, so I’m going to have to close early.” A grin spread across his face. “You can come back and see what’s left tomorrow.”

  The two barmaids traded startled glances and so did the customers.

  Sal held up his sword when no one made a move to go. “Are you all deaf? Go on! Go! And if you see the guard on the way, send them here quick.”

  Two of the customers headed for the stairs; the rest went quickly out the front door.

  “Mila, Sheree, go on home. You can clean up tomorrow.” The two girls promptly headed for the kitchen.

  Torren watched all this with detachment, his mind occupied with other things. All at once he looked up at Sal and asked, “Where’s Larana?”

  The half-grin died on Sal’s face. His friend stared at him with something close to reproach. “She’s still where you left her.”

  Not taking the time to think about exactly what Sal meant, he headed for the stairs. He’d given warning, and the guard would soon be here; but it was still no guarantee those men wouldn’t get what they were looking for.

  And even if they didn’t, there’d be questions afterwards. If the guard captured any of the hired men, they’d talk about the “niece.” With all the money changing hands, the guard wouldn’t believe Larana when she told them she knew nothing. Torren took the steps two at a time.

  When he reached the end of the hall, he opened the door to the room without knocking. A candle burned low on the short table, throwing dancing shadows on the walls. Larana lay on one of the two cots, her back to him. His brows drew together for a moment as he spotted the money pouch he’d given Sal sitting in the middle of the floor, its contents partially scattered about. It reminded him of a similar scene at another tavern not an hour before.

  Torren set his pack down and knelt to gather the coins into the pouch. The two situations were in no way similar, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling they’d been very much the same kind of payment. Putting the pouch away, he glanced once more at Larana’s still form.

  She was stretched out on the cot diagonally, her shoes still on her feet. It was almost as if sleep had caught her unawares. He knew from seeing the money Sal had spoken to her of his leaving. What would she make of his sudden return? Hesitantly, he reached out to shake her arm.

  “Larana.”

  He took a step back, startled, as his touch brought her instantly awake. Larana whirled upright, red, swollen eyes wide and staring in a shocked face.

  They were immobile for what felt like an eternity, until her eyes flashed with sudden temper.

  “You left me! You didn’t even say goodbye. Why? I thought…I thought we…” Her anger died as he continued looking at her in impassive silence, replaced by misery and self-doubt. Tears welled as she abruptly rushed off the bed and threw herself at him. “Torren!”

  He caught her easily, startling himself by doing so. She sobbed against his chest, pounding him with her small fists.

  “You shouldn’t have done it. I don’t want your money! You’re the only one who understands—don’t you know that? You could have told me…you could have told me…” Her words turned incomprehensible even as her warm tears soaked through to his skin.

  Hesitantly, calling himself a fool, he placed his arms comfortingly around her. Guilt infused him at what he’d done, but what choice had he had? Now things were about to get even more complicated.

  “Larana,” he said gently. He pried her carefully off him and stared down into her wet face. “We have to go.”

  She stared at him in confusion, alternately trying to wipe her face with her sleeve and control a sudden bout of hiccups.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Those men are back. We have to go.”

  Though he could tell his words only made her more confused, Larana still nodded.

  “I’m ready.”

  Taking her at her word, he picked up his pack and headed for the door. She was right behind him. They met Sal in the hallway as he pounded on his guests’ doors to rouse them.

  “Ah, you’ve found her. Good.”

  Startled customers peered out into the hallway.

  “Good people,” Sal advised, “trouble is coming our way. I’ve sent for the guard, but they may or may not arrive in time to avert it. I suggest you get dressed and leave, or stay, if you desire, and prepare yourselves for a possible fight.”

  He turned away and followed Torren and Larana down the stairs.

  “Are you staying?” he asked, his grin back on his face as the sound of rushing footsteps sounded form above.

  Torren glanced at Larana and answered, “We can’t.”

  Sal studied him intently. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more going on here than you’re telling me? It’s not like you to run from a fight.”

  He looked away. “There’s a lot I don’t know. I’ll have to try to explain it to you later.”

  It was the best he could do. He hoped Sal would find it to be enough for now.

  “I’ll hold you to it, and I don’t want to have to wait years, either.” He slapped him lightly on the back. “If you think you have time, take some food with you.” His eyes softened as they turned toward Larana. “I expect you to take care of this stubborn man, miss, at least until I see the two of you again.”

  Torren blinked in amazement, though Larana nodded slowly, looking happier than moments before.

  Sal glanced over his shoulder at the stairs for a moment before reaching for a couple of cloaks hanging on pegs by the stairs.

  “Here, you’d better take these. They should help keep you out of sight.” He handed the garments over, grinning at Torren’s expression. He steered the two of them toward the kitchen. “Take care.”

  Once through the doors, Torren regained his mental balance and hurried on. He grabbed a couple of loaves of bread, a chunk of cheese and some smoked fish hanging from the ceiling. Larana grabbed a couple of onions and peppers as well as some fruit from a bowl by the door. He made no comment as they dumped their assorted booty into a sack he fetched from the storage room.

  Making sure she was wearing the overly large cloak Sal had given her and that she stood behind him, he opened the door to the alley and slipped outside. Handing Larana the sack of food, he unsheathed his short sword and led the way down the dark street. The two of them traveled from shadow to shadow. All three moons shone above them, making a strange counterpoint to the large silhouette of the island looming over them. The governor’s fortress rose imperiously between the two.

  Once he made it close to the northern gates, Torren stopped and peeked around the corner at the gate’s guard station. Light streamed from the open door into the street. Larana lightly bumped into him and mumbled an apology before leaning up against the wall. He glanced back at her but could see little beneath the cloak’s deep cowl. From her slumped posture, though, it was easy to tell the girl was dead on her feet. He didn’t feel much better. It had been a long day for both of them.

  “We’re only going a little farther.” He took her unresisting arm and led her back the way they’d come for a bloc
k before crossing over to the other side of the main thoroughfare, out of sight of the guard station. Against the right side of the city wall, large, narrow barns with gated stalls stood next to several closed storage areas. Everything was quiet.

  Still leading Larana by the arm, Torren sneaked into the closest barn through a partially open door. The scent of hay, animals and manure swept over them as they walked in. A soft whinny disrupted the quiet at their entrance but that was all. Walking tiptoe so as not to disturb the animals, he groped about in the dark until he found a ladder leading up into the hayloft.

  He prodded Larana to go on up. The girl obeyed, almost slipping twice on the rungs. As soon as he’d gotten her and himself to the top, he led her to the far corner where she collapsed into a heap and didn’t get up again.

  Torren knelt beside her, moved back her cowl to check on her and found her fast asleep. He studied what little he could see of her long face for a moment then pulled some loose hay down to cover them both. He was asleep almost as fast as she was.

  Chapter Eight

  Activity below slowly brought Torren awake. He didn’t open his eyes immediately, his body warm and strangely comfortable. He was tempted to allow himself to fall back asleep, until the events of the night before trickled back into his consciousness. Now totally alert, he realized Larana was snuggled up against him.

  Apprehension mixed with reluctance swept through him, even as he gently pulled away. Strangely, he found himself wondering what Sal would have made of the scene. He hoped his friend had fared well in the night.

  “Larana.” He whispered her name close to her ear. She mumbled a few unintelligible words and then curled up into a ball. “It’s time to get up.”

  He shook her lightly.

  Larana grudgingly opened her eyes then suddenly sat up in alarm.

  “It’s all right. We’re safe.”

  She looked about their current refuge, her expression showing she possessed no recollection of having come there. The sounds of waking animals and people drifted up from below.

  “I have to leave for a little while,” he told her.

  Her face instantly filled with panic. “No!”

  Torren felt his own harden even as a pang of guilt rang inside him, knowing after the last time she’d have no reason to believe he’d be back. “I have to arrange for us to get out of the city. After not finding you last night, it’s very likely those men will have lookouts posted at the gates.”

  “Why are they looking for me?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. You may have seen something you shouldn’t have.” He tried hard to smile. “Maybe it has something to do with your strange gift.”

  Larana’s brow furrowed as she stared at her lap, absorbing all he’d said and mulling it over. “But no one knows about my gift. It’s a secret. And I don’t remember seeing anything.”

  Her sky-blue eyes met his.

  “It could be you saw something you don’t remember seeing, or it’s something they only think you saw. As for the other, there’s a chance your aunt or uncle might have told someone. Your aunt came and woke you, as if she were going to show you to them, before she asked you to run.”

  Larana shook her head. “No. They…they constantly asked me to hide it. They wouldn’t have told anyone.” She stared at him, confused.

  “We can discuss it some more later,” he said, pushing the subject aside. “Right now, our priority is getting ourselves out of here.”

  With this, he moved to the edge of the loft and looked down. Making sure no one was watching, he deftly descended the ladder and sneaked out. Finding a shaded corner, he took off his cloak, shook the hay out of it then brushed off his clothes and hair. After making himself more presentable, he headed off toward the storage area.

  After a few inquiries, as the sun rose oozing amber on the horizon, he was able to find the factor handling a caravan presently being readied to leave town. Some quick negotiations later, he returned to the stables and made his way back up into the loft.

  Larana’s gaze snapped up from the back corner as she heard him. An apple in her hand, she stopped in mid-bite, looking like a frightened child a lot younger than her years. As soon as she realized who it was, however, her face blossomed in relief and with something akin to joy.

  Torren frowned, one part of him bothered by her reaction and dependency while another knew only too well what it was like to have no one to rely on.

  “You can come down now. Though, until we’re out the gates with the caravan, it’d be best if you showed yourself outside as little as possible.”

  “You bought us passage?”

  “No,” he said, “I got us work. I’ll be helping guard the caravan, and you’ll be doing odd jobs as well as helping with the mules and horses and assisting the cook.”

  “Good.”

  He was taken back a little by the unexpected reaction. He’d half-thought she’d balk at having to work for their passage. Now he hoped her handling of Gimmel’s mule hadn’t been a fluke.

  “I gave them our real names to keep things simple, but I’ve told them you’re my sister, and we’re heading north to visit a sick relative.”

  “But—”

  He cut her off. “It gives us a reason to be heading toward the border, and it will make it harder for us to be found by those men if they question the caravan later.”

  He watched her give this some thought. After a moment she nodded, her face clearing.

  Following a hurried breakfast, they gathered their belongings and headed for the ladder. As Larana started down, Torren leaned forward and removed a piece of straw from her hair. She froze, staring at him, and then gave him a dazzling smile, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly.

  “Thanks.”

  He only grunted a reply, not sure why he’d done it and also amazed how hard his heart was pounding because she’d smiled at him so brightly. He swore to himself that, as soon as they lost these men, he had to find someplace safe to leave her.

  With her hood safely over her head and hiding her face, he took Larana to meet the caravan’s work master. After that, Torren pitched in with the loading of goods while she followed one of the stable hands to help harness the last of the mules.

  Soon, all the wagons stood hitched, the goods were secured and everyone was ready to leave. Torren made sure Larana and their possessions were stowed in the back of the cook wagon then took his place in the line of guards.

  Without much fanfare, the group left the loading area and headed toward the open city gates. The guards at the gate station only gave them a cursory glance after checking the caravan owner’s papers. Torren made sure to look straight ahead after he spotted two men on the other side of the gates sporting dark armor, surveying with interest everyone who left the city. Who were these people?

  The morning offered no answers but also passed without incident.

  At the midday rest period, he spotted Larana, without her cloak, helping water the mules and horses; he knew there was no help for her not wearing it when she was working. The caravan got moving again within the hour; and though he’d been keeping careful watch, he spotted no signs of pursuit.

  The caravan was of midsize, composed of fifteen wagons drawn by four mules each. Two of the wagons were for food and supplies, one was a cook wagon, another a sleeping wagon for the owner and the manager; the rest were filled to the brim with goods from the south to sell to the northern regions and perhaps even Galt. The few horses brought along were for the merchant, the manager and the head of security. Each wagon had a driver, and each driver was either part of the security force or a noncombatant with multiple jobs on the trip. Another ten armed men, including Torren, walked on either side of the line, providing added security.

  Though they were traveling on a Grand Highway and small garrisons would dot the way until they reached the pass, the large amount of security showed how much the rumors from the north were affecting those coming from the south. Even the wages they were paying for
this trip were higher than normal. Not that he was complaining on that account.

  The caravan came to a stop an hour or so before sundown, pulling off to the side of the road. Immediately, everyone pitched in to set up camp, the caravan’s manager walking up and down issuing orders.

  Torren helped unhitch the mules and tether them in a line. The tree line in this area had been pushed back some time ago, and dark rings around small pits in the ground showed the site had been used many times by other caravans.

  Larana and several of the others took feed from one of the supply wagons for the mules and horses. Others scavenged wood from the other side of the road and piled it into the pits. As the sky darkened, the fires provided the group with some light.

  Not long after, Larana and the cooks came by with heaping bowls of meat and vegetables as well as cups of watered wine. She ran up, almost tripping, and with an embarrassed smile gave Torren his. Watching her run back, half-amused despite himself, he picked a spot by one of the fires farthest from the road and sat down. She was able to join him not long after. She settled down with a satisfied smile and dug in.

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the heat from the fire as it mixed with the light, cooling breeze of the deepening evening.

  “Have they been keeping you busy?”

  She glanced over at him and nodded. “The cook had us cut vegetables and peel potatoes. Normally, it’s pretty easy work, but I’ve not done it in a moving wagon before.” She showed him where she’d accidentally nicked one of her fingers. “Everyone is really nice, though, and some of them have traveled all over.”

  The fire shone brightly in her eyes.

  “Just be careful what you tell them,” he warned. “What they don’t know they can’t pass on to others.”

  Larana’s expression sobered. “You…you think they’ll still keep looking for me?” Her question was spoken in less than a whisper.

  He answered her as frankly as he could. “They’ve gone through too much trouble so far for me to think they’ll stop now.”

  She looked away, concentrating on the fire.