Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5)

by Garrett Robinson

  A smile came to Loren unbidden, and she clapped a firm hand on Annis’ shoulder. “Well, I for one am glad. You seemed at ease, and confident. Happier, mayhap, than I have seen you since Wellmont.”

  Annis giggled. “I think I am. I have always thought of such things as a game—which my tutors did not favor, I can assure you, though they could not argue that I learned my lessons regardless. And it has earned me some small amount of renown among the Mystics who dwell here.”

  Loren’s smile widened—but mention of the Mystics made her think of the dark young man from the courtyard, who Kal had said was named Hewal. Her good mood evaporated. “As for that—do you know many of the soldiers in Ammon? Have you met them, or learned anything about them?”

  “Not very much,” said Annis, shrugging.

  Her dream flashed before her eyes. But how could she explain that? “No, nothing. Pay me no mind.”

  Annis’ eyes narrowed, and the girl crossed her arms over her chest. “You asked Kal something of this, did you not? What is your interest in this Hewal fellow?”

  Loren grimaced. She had forgotten how sharp and observant Annis could be, and always at the most inopportune times. “It is nothing. Or, I believe that it is nothing. But if it should become important, I will tell you before anyone else—other than Chet, of course. Does that satisfy you?”

  “I suppose,” said Annis. “Though you make it all sound very mysterious, and that is rarely a good sign with you. I could speak with Hewal if you wish, and try to learn what I—”

  “No!” said Loren, far more sharply than she had intended. She tried again, softening her tone. “No, that is all right. But thank you.”

  Annis’ eyes shot wide, and for the first time the girl looked truly worried. “Loren, what is it?” she whispered. “Are we in any danger?”

  Loren thought of Chet’s ruined throat, and the feral look in Gem’s eyes as he attacked her. But she forced a smile. “No. Of course not. We are in a stronghold of Mystics, the greatest warriors in Underrealm. Where could we be safer?” She could see that Annis was not entirely convinced. But she took the girl’s arm and drew her on down the hallway. “Come. You have hardly had a chance to speak with Gem, and though you might not care overmuch, Chet, too, wishes to see you.”

  “Not so much as he wishes to see you, I am sure,” said Annis with a sigh. “Are the two of you … is it much the same as when I saw you last?”

  A furious red sprang into Loren’s face. When last she had seen Annis, she and Chet had been chaste, but now … “Er, it is not—that is, not quite the same.”

  Annis must have taken her meaning, for her mouth formed a small circle. “I … I did not mean to … that is, forgive me for prying.”

  Loren could not help a laugh at that. “Still the modest merchant’s daughter, I see. It is not prying that worries me—only I did not wish to embarrass you, knowing your thoughts on such matters.”

  “Yes, well …” Annis looked thoroughly miserable with her bashfulness. “In any case … might we speak of something else?”

  “Let us do one better, and find our friends,” said Loren. She took Annis’ hand, and led her off running down the hallway, laughing like they were children. Annis pointed the way to the stronghold’s great dining hall, and there was Loren’s party, only just sitting down to a meal from the kitchens.

  Gem leapt to his feet at once and flung himself into Annis’ arms, screaming with delight. Annis clutched at his shoulders, and then pushed him away to look at him—and Loren saw it. There, in Annis’ eyes, was a pure and true love, even stronger, mayhap, than the way Loren felt for Chet. Tears came freely to the girl’s eyes as she smiled and clutched Gem to her again. But Gem only smiled and laughed, and Loren saw no trace of the same feelings in his eyes that showed so strongly for Annis.

  Chet gave Annis a warm enough greeting, and then came to Loren. He took her hand in his and led her to the table.

  “I will fetch you some food. What did Kal wish to discuss with you?”

  Loren’s mind returned to the council room, and the mission Kal had given her. She would hunt for Rogan, just as Chet had said on the High King’s Seat. Her mood darkened, and he saw it. But she only shook her head.

  “There is time to discuss it later,” she said. “Let us wait until the joy of reunion has passed.”

  He frowned, and she feared he might give voice to his objection. But then Annis sat beside Loren, and Gem on her other side, both of them talking animatedly. And in the face of their joy, Chet closed his mouth again, and went to fetch Loren her dinner, while Loren picked up a knife and began to pick at her nails with it.

  eleven

  AFTER THEY ATE, ANNIS TOOK Loren and Chet and Gem to the stables, where they found Midnight waiting. Loren gave a happy cry when she saw the mare, and scratched at her nose as Midnight gave a whinny of delight. But then the horse turned to Annis, and pushed her muzzle against the girl’s shoulder. Annis giggled and gave Loren an embarrassed smile.

  “We have become fast friends during our time here,” she confessed. “I have visited her often, and will usually bring a treat from the kitchens. Though I think that duty should now pass to you. Here.” From a pocket in her cloak she drew an apple, and Loren fed it to Midnight, who gave a sharp nicker of pleasure.

  They spent some time there, and Loren brushed Midnight’s coat, though it was already clean and shining. Then Annis took them out into the courtyard and up atop the wall, where they looked out over the surrounding lands. Night approached swiftly, and daylight was dimming. Annis pointed out this or that part of the fortress, sharing tidbits she had learned from snatches of conversation among the Mystics—who were growing more and more plentiful, the way she described it.

  “Ever since the attack on the Seat, they have come in ever greater numbers,” said Annis. “But they do nothing. There are no plans to engage in battle—at least not yet. They are only gathering their strength, and it is hard to escape reminders of the brewing war. I was only just starting to learn the names of those within the stronghold when all the newcomers started to arrive, and now I am nearly lost again.”

  “Are you now? I can tell you where to find yourself, if you wish,” said Niya. She had appeared behind them as if by magic. Loren started and turned to her, and Annis squeaked with fright. The others had come as well, Uzo, Shiun, Weath and large Jormund, and they each gave Loren a nod.

  “You did not hear us coming?” said Weath, giving Loren a wide smile. “You should keep a better lookout.”

  “I am in a stronghold full of allies,” said Loren, rolling her eyes. “I thought I might let my guard down for half a moment.”

  Niya smiled at her, and then turned her eyes on Annis. A curious light shone in her eyes. “Well, if it is not the Yerrin girl.”

  Annis frowned. “I was not aware that we knew each other.”

  “But everyone in the stronghold knows you,” said Niya, and her smile grew wider. “Those who dwell here already speak of you as though you are their little sister.”

  That mollified Annis considerably, and she held forth a hand. “Annis of the family Yerrin.”

  Niya clasped her wrist. “Niya. These ones with me are Weath, Uzo, Shiun, and Jormund.”

  They greeted her one by one, and then stepped up to the ramparts beside Loren and Chet as Annis went on describing the lands that surrounded the stronghold. It seemed that Niya quickly grew bored, however, for she stepped over beside Loren and leaned on the ramparts just to her right. On her other side, Loren saw that Chet took notice, and his mouth twisted in a frown.

  “How went your words with the Chancellor?” said Niya quietly, so as not to interrupt Annis.

  “Nothing very important came of it,” said Loren lightly. She tried not to pay attention to how close Niya was, so close that she could almost feel the woman’s breath on her cheek. “At least not yet. Though it seems the next leg of our mission might begin sooner than we had expected.”

  Niya straightened slightly, and for
got to speak quietly. “We are to ride forth? When?”

  Annis’ conversation halted, and the other Mystics looked to Loren. She shook her head quickly. “That has not been decided. Kal would not know where to send us, at least not yet. When he knows more, he will tell us.”

  “He cannot do it too quickly,” said Uzo, scowling. “I have been idle since the attack on the Seat, and I feel that if I do not do something, I may go mad.”

  “I have not seen as much battle as you, certainly, but I do not wish for more,” said Chet.

  “Mayhap you have no reason to,” snapped Uzo. “I was in the palace when they came. I knew a lover there, a courtesan of the High King herself, and some others as well.”

  “Meaning yourself?” said Niya, smirking.

  Uzo’s dark cheeks went darker. “In any case, I saw him in the fighting. I was in formation and could not break through the lines of the Shades. I watched, helpless, as some of them dragged him from a side room. They cut him open there in the hall, and let his guts splash upon the marble floor. There was no reason to it. He had no weapon. It was slaughter for the sake of slaughter.”

  They were all silent for a moment after that. Loren saw Gem looking up at Uzo, his jaw hanging slack. The boy’s eyes shone wet, and not from the light drizzle that fell from the sky.

  One of Jormund’s massive hands tightened into a fist. “I was stationed on the north wall, but I went running to the eastern docks as soon as the horns sounded. I saw the Dulmun fleet land, and the gate had already been drawn up against them. Some of the folk from the city had been trapped outside, but rather than flee north or south, they only pounded on the door. The Dulmun soldiers set upon them like they were enemy soldiers, piercing them with spears so that their bodies were pinned to the wall.”

  “We all saw dark things that day,” said Weath quietly. “We all have reason to hate the Shades.”

  Loren thought of the part she had played in the battle of the palace, and found herself nodding in agreement. But then she thought of Xain—and that, in turn, made her think of Jordel.

  “Vengeance,” she said—but her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again, quietly. “Vengeance is a poor reason to ride into battle. Let us not make war for hatred. We should seek justice instead. A wise man—and a Mystic—taught me that.”

  Most of them bowed their heads. Loren knew that most of them had been Kal’s soldiers for some time, and had known Jordel, at least in passing. But Niya smiled at Loren. “Why should it matter if justice or vengeance swings the sword? A head will roll free regardless. I have fought before, and I have learned this: give yourself whatever reason you need to fight. But when you go to battle, fight to win. Then you may dream up whatever reason you wish—you cannot do that if you are dead.”

  Loren’s ears burned. “Yes, of course,” she said hastily. “I only mean that having a clear mind and a clear purpose may …”

  Niya shook her head, her smile widening. “I know what you meant.”

  Somehow that smile made Loren even more embarrassed. She knew that since leaving the Birchwood, she had been naive, and had thought that her own rules of right and wrong could be imposed upon those she met. That had ended in disaster more than once, and no more so than when Jordel had fallen in the Greatrocks. She could keep her vow to herself, and never take a life—but she knew that if she led these Mystics upon their mission, and did not view the world realistically, it would lead only to tragedy and death.

  The Nightblade must have honor, she told herself. But the Nightblade must also be wise—for who would call me honorable if I let others die for my own foolishness?

  Her gaze drifted, and she looked down from the wall into the courtyard. The door to the stronghold opened, and a Mystic stepped out. The daylight was almost gone, but she recognized him from the scar that split his chin: Hewal. Her brows drew together.

  “What?” whispered Chet, catching the look on her face. “What is wrong?”

  Loren did not answer him, but turned to the rest of them. “I am weary from the road, and desire rest,” she said. “I bid all of you good night.”

  “I will show you to your quarters,” said Annis brightly. “Follow me.”

  She led them down into the courtyard. The Mystics stayed atop the wall, with Niya giving Loren a final nod, and a secretive smile that made Loren’s heart flutter. As Annis scampered down the steps, Loren lagged behind to speak with Chet.

  “You remember my dream upon the Seat,” she said.

  “I do,” said Chet, frowning.

  “I saw a man there—a man dressed in the clothes of a Shade. And then, when we arrived at Ammon today, I saw him. He was in Kal’s guard. He had a scar on his chin.”

  Chet’s eyes widened. “I remember him. You are certain? He was in your dream.”

  “I am. It was not a likeness—it was the same man.”

  “What …” Chet stopped and looked down. “What do you suppose it means?”

  “I do not know,” said Loren. “You do not think I am going mad?”

  “Why should I think that?” said Chet, shrugging. “I often dream of those I have met in the waking world, and sometimes I see people in my dream who do not exist at all. But never have I seen someone in my sleep, only for them to appear in true life. It must mean something.”

  Loren gave a great sigh. Simply hearing Chet voice his support brought relief welling up within her. But it did not bring her any close to a solution. “What should we do?”

  “Who can we trust here?” said Chet. “Annis and Gem, of course, though I do not know if they will be of much help here. What about Kal? Could you not tell him what you saw?”

  “I do not think he would place much stock in a dream,” said Loren. Her thoughts drifted to Niya, and she remembered how the woman often looked at her. “We might tell the Mystics who came with us.”

  “No,” said Chet at once. “We barely know that Niya woman, for we scarcely met them a week ago. And though we have known the others a while longer, we have not spent much time with them. I would hardly call them friends.”

  “Yet they are capable warriors, and Niya seems wise besides,” said Loren. “She is a captain, as Jordel was. We need someone who knows something of the Mystics.”

  “If you must speak to one of them, speak to Weath, or Shiun or Jormund or Uzo,” said Chet. “But not Niya.”

  Loren gave him a look, and she thought she heard what he was unwilling to say. Almost she took him to task for it, but now hardly seemed the time. “Very well,” she said. “Let us mention it first to Annis—only I do not think it would be wise to tell her everything at once.”

  Chet gave a sigh of relief. “I agree.”

  They increased their pace to catch up with the children again. Soon they reached their quarters, and Annis stopped them before a wooden door. “I am just across the hall, in a room where some Mystics stay as well,” she said. “Gem, you are in just the next room over. Loren and Chet, your room is your own.”

  “Thank you, Annis,” said Loren. She glanced up and down the hallway. No one else was in sight. “Would you mind stepping within for a moment? Both of you? There was one more thing I wished to discuss.”

  Annis and Gem frowned as they looked at each other, but they followed Loren into her room. It was a meager place, with only a bed, a single chest, and a bureau against the wall. There were no chairs or rugs or drapes, as they had had upon the Seat, nor even a window, only a small hole near the ceiling so that burning a lantern did not make the room too stuffy. Loren closed the door behind the children and then stood before them, fidgeting with her hands.

  “What is it, Loren?” said Annis. “Clearly something troubles you greatly.”

  “I must ask you to trust me,” Loren blurted out. “But I cannot … I cannot tell you exactly why.”

  The girl’s nostrils flared. “Is this about Hewal? What is the matter with you—or with him? Spit it out.” She put her hands to her hips, and for a moment looked just like her mother as sh
e scowled.

  “Yes, it is Hewal,” said Loren. “Is there anything—anything at all—that you know about him? The smallest detail might help.”

  Annis threw up her hands. “I have told you I know almost nothing. I believe he is a messenger, but I am not even certain of that.”

  Loren and Chet shared a look. A messenger? Who better to be a spy for the enemy?

  Gem was frowning at the both of them now. “Honestly, what is the matter with you?” he said. “I have not seen you this anxious since … well, since just before the attack upon the Seat.”

  “There is nothing for it,” she said quietly to Chet.

  “I know,” he said.

  Loren took a deep breath and spoke in a whisper. “I think he may be a Shade.”

  The room went very still. Annis and Gem both froze, as though they were afraid a movement might reveal them to some unseen enemy. At last Annis licked her lips.

  “Why?” she said.

  “I cannot explain that,” said Loren. “But for my peace of mind if nothing else, we must investigate.”

  “We … how?” said Gem. “I do not think I could walk up to him in the dining hall and ask, ‘Say, do you have another change of clothes that are blue and grey? Have you lost a friend named Trisken recently?’ What do you mean to do?”

  “I do not know exactly,” said Loren. “But we can start with his personal effects. The chances are small that we will find anything to prove what I suspect, but we have to try.”

  Annis shivered. “Very well. We can do it tomorrow. I will find out where his quarters are.”

  “I will serve as a lookout,” said Gem.