Midnight Quest

by Honor Raconteur

  “Her hair be as dark as mine,” Rialt observed thoughtfully, “but her skin be more fair, like yours. Despite your fair hair, Sarvell, I think she would pass better as your sister than mine.”

  “Which would make you, what?” Sarvell responded, tone intrigued. “Family bodyguard? Sent along to help me with her?”

  “Eh, it be a workable enough story.”

  “I certainly can’t think of a better one,” Sarvell acknowledged. “Alright. Jewel, you are now unofficially a Sorpan. I actually have a younger sister, so anyone that’s heard of my family won’t think it strange. Rialt, you’d better hand her to me.”

  “Are you well known for being protective of this sister?” Rialt asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

  “Well…yes.”

  Jewel sat close enough to hear Rialt’s soft snort of amusement.

  Rialt put a hand at the small of her back and led her closer to where Sarvell sat on his stallion, mounted. With no apparent effort, he put both hands at her waist and lifted her up. Sarvell accepted her with the same amount of ease, shifting her so that she sat sideways. She put an arm around his waist for balance, cuddling in like a sickly sister would with her head on his chest.

  “Just keep your eyes closed,” Sarvell murmured into the top of her head. “Act like you’re asleep.”

  “Alright.” Actually, taking a nap sounded tempting. She’d only had a few hours of sleep before Sarvell and Rialt had broken her out of the cell. It was close to midday now and she sorely felt the aftereffects of her nighttime adventures.

  Her ears picked up the sounds of the creak and shift of the saddle leather as Rialt mounted his stallion.

  They left their forest hideaway and made a beeline for the main road. The horses made soft slapping and rustling sounds as they moved through tall grass, low brush and the usual forest undergrowth. Upon gaining the road, these sounds were exchanged by creaking wagons, plodding feet, and the distinct smell of cold stone. This close to the city, the road was paved with smooth stone that gave each hoof beat a slightly metallic ring. On the air, other sounds came: people speaking, dozens of different animals as they called out, the thumps and rings of work being done. All of these sounds weaved together with scents of baking bread, metalworking, streaming water, and the less aromatic scents of waste and refuse. They were closing in on the city.

  Wexels was the last main city before leaving Thornock territory. It was the main center of trade for Thornock and Ramath, so the amount of noise and bustling emanating from the city was understandable.

  To her surprise, despite the constant stream of traffic in and out of the main gates, at least one guard remembered Sarvell and stopped him. “Didn’t you already come in and leave?” the voice was heavy with suspicion and old from too much ale.

  “Miscommunication.” Sarvell’s tone conveyed exasperation and a little irritation. “I was told to meet these two inside the city, they thought they were supposed to wait outside.”

  “So who are they?”

  “Ah, this is my little sister. He’s a guard that works for my family.”

  “I see. Come through, then.”

  Sarvell’s thighs flexed as he tapped his heels against the horse’s flanks, urging him back into motion. Jewel counted to ten before she dared to ask, “Did he buy that story?”

  “Maybe. It sounded plausible enough to him that he let us through at least. Now we need to quickly get under cover before anyone else stops and asks us questions.”

  Jewel had never been to Wexel before, so the turns that Sarvell made had no real meaning to her. He had to twist and maneuver around other people and their wagons so often that she soon lost her bearings entirely.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped. Jewel waited patiently, alert for some cue as to what Sarvell had planned next. He bent slightly to put his mouth near her forehead. “I’m going to hand you down to Rialt. He’ll carry you inside and to a back room. Keep your eyes closed and keep pretending you’re asleep.”

  She nodded understanding.

  Rialt came and lifted her off as easily as he had put her on, tucking one arm under her knees and the other around her back in a supportive brace. She tucked her head under his chin, hands folded in her lap. The beard against her bare forehead tickled and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

  She felt very secure in his iron-hard grip. Rialt ascended two steps and crossed a wooden porch, his boots giving off hollow thuds with every stride he took. The quiet slide of a door being opened, and then new sounds and smells invaded her senses. The solid thumps of large bundles being moved against the floor, the dusty smell of paper, the sharper and earthier smell of new leather, male voices calling out questions and orders to each other. A mercantile business? That was her impression.

  One person at least noticed and recognized them. “Sarvell Sorpan! What brings you out here?”

  “Well, I need a bit of a favor, Liam. Is there some place private we can talk?”

  “Sure, sure. This way.”

  Rialt took five ground-eating strides before turning and entering a room, ducking a bit as he did. Was the doorway too low for him to properly clear? He bent even further, sinking into a chair that groaned as it took both his weight and hers. Jewel sat up as the door clicked shut. She would have sought her own seat, if not for Rialt’s restraining grip on her.

  “Interesting company you have with you, Sarvell.” Another chair groaned as a person sat.

  “It’s a long story, Liam, and best for you that we not tell you who either of these people are. The favor I need is to sneak these two into Ramath.”

  “Smuggling people?” The inflection was meant to be ruminative, but there was a layer of unmistakable excitement. “This will be a first. I think Brant and I can concoct a way to get you out tomorrow. We’re loading up a train now. I’ll charge you the usual fee plus bragging rights, when you can tell me the full tale later.”

  “You’re a smuggler amongst smugglers, Liam.”

  “Cork those honeyed words, boy!” Liam laughed in delight at what Sarvell had obviously meant as praise. “Now, can you two mysterious guests stay here quietly for the rest of the day?”

  “Eh, and gladly,” Rialt rumbled. “A bit of food and rest would be a welcome thing.”

  “All three of you look like you need a good night’s sleep,” Liam observed. “Sarvell, I don’t suppose I can have that story soon?”

  “That depends. Can you keep your mouth shut for at least a fortnight?”

  “Absolutely!” Liam assured him, as if there wasn’t a trace of doubt in his ability to keep a secret.

  “Good. Then I’ll tell you in two months.”

  Jewel choked back a laugh, both men’s dry humor getting the better of her restraint.

  “Fifteen years!” Liam exclaimed in mock sorrow. “Fifteen years I’ve been working with your father, and this is how little you trust me.”

  “Liam, it’s because of those fifteen years that I don’t trust you. Now, I’m going to go out and get some decent food for us. You make sure that no one comes in here or I’ll have your head.”

  “Such a mistrusting, cynical man you grew up to be,” Liam mourned. “And such a sweet child you were.”

  “Considering I spent most of my formative years under your tutelage, that statement doesn’t move me one bit.” Sarvell’s hand captured one of hers, holding it gently. “Jewel, is there any food that you would like me to bring back?”

  “A meat pie?” she requested wistfully.

  “Eh, I second that,” Rialt added just as wistfully.

  “Two meat pies, then.” Sarvell gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and striding for the door. “You rest until I return.”

  “Rest where?” Jewel asked Rialt. “What’s in this room?”

  “Bolts of cloth and bales of leathers, mostly. Here, let me guide you around.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She climbed off his lap and followed where he led, using her hands to
investigate the room and mark out in her mind where everything was placed. There were only two chairs in here, both near the door, and the rest of the space held just cloth and bundles of leathers.

  They spent a few minutes re-stacking some of the bundles, giving them a comfortable place to sleep. By the time three separate areas were made, Sarvell came back with the meat pies. He assured them their horses were taken around back, safely out of sight and suitably cared for.

  With a proper meal in her stomach, Jewel found it almost impossible to stay awake. For the first time in days she was warm, safe, and fed. The combination was her undoing. She curled up on top of the leather bundles, snuggled her new cloak up around her neck, and slipped instantly into deep sleep.

  ~*~*~*~

  Jewel sat quite still in the muffled confines of the wagon. The area was so small that she cuddled into Rialt’s lap as there wasn’t space for them to sit apart. Jewel didn’t actually mind this, as Rialt was not only marvelously comfortable to sit on, but smelled quite nice. The man practically radiated heat too, which she pleasantly soaked up.

  Judging from the way he nervously twitched now and again, he wasn’t quite as comfortable as she with their positions.

  The sounds of early morning traffic shifted through the wooden walls of the wagon as the entire caravan trundled down the main road heading out of Wexel. Jewel had listened carefully as the preparations were being made and she guessed the caravan to hold roughly a dozen wagons. It was a wealthy train and one well-guarded by two dozen guards. It was not the only caravan of this size on the main road that day, so the pace in clearing the northern gate had slowed to a crawl. The first snow melt had finally occurred and every merchant wanted to take advantage of the snow-free roads as quickly as possible. The guard detail at the gate obviously wasn’t prepared for such a trader influx.

  They’d been told the plan, of course, before being snuck into the back of the wagon in the predawn hours. Still, she jolted when the wagon abruptly dipped to one side and an ominous sound of creaking wood and screeching metal rent the air.

  “Dross and dreck!” Liam swore with deep exasperation. The wagon’s bench squeaked a bit as he stood and jumped to the ground with a heavy and solid thud. “Brant! You ham-handed, gormless scut!”

  From farther behind them, approaching with a quick stride, came Brant. “What are you yelling at me for?!”

  “I told you to properly check the wagons before we loaded!” Liam growled in a tone low enough to nearly vibrate the wagon’s wall near Jewel’s ear.

  “I did! It’s not my fault you’re so tight-fisted that we couldn’t buy the right parts!”

  “By Thaazan’s nimble hands, this is ridiculous!” A foot scuffed the dirt as someone pivoted sharply. “Nev!”

  “What’s the holdup back here?” Nev’s voice came from the beginning of the train, growing more distinct and audible as he approached with the smooth gait of a former military man. “The guards up here are getting irritated ‘cause we’re holding up the line and—how’d the wheel come off?!”

  Jewel smothered a laugh into her hand as another round of blame casting went on, growing louder and with more creative expletives with each cycle.

  “STOP!” Nev finally thundered. “Forget I asked, let’s just fix the shard-borne thing.”

  “Well, get to it,” Liam responded with short impatience.

  “Me?” Nev objected.

  “We had that game this morning to sort things like this out, didn’t we?” Brant reminded, tone rather testy.

  “I’m a guard, not a blacksmith!” Nev nearly wailed.

  “You also lost the toss!”

  “And I’m convinced you rigged it!”

  Jewel twisted a smidge so that she could whisper in Rialt’s ear, “What kind of smugglers deliberately draw attention to themselves like this?”

  “Good ones,” Rialt rumbled in a low whisper. His voice held a note of approval. “If they make more of a fuss, and block the road another ten or fifteen minutes, the guards up there will get real antsy to move us along. They might no mind this wagon at all. They do no want us sitting here a’ day, do ya see.”

  “But isn’t it risky to have a wheel come off like this?”

  “The wheel be proof of how good they are,” Rialt disagreed. “Only the very best would pull a chicane like this. I would lay odds that if they were minded to the wheel could be set again in moments.”

  They certainly would have fooled her into thinking otherwise. Outside of their wagon’s walls there was tool dropping, name calling, insults about the blacksmith who’d made the spare wheel (and the dogs that had bred him), and enough mishaps to resemble a comedy of errors. Two different gate guards came down to see what the delay was and left again with very unhappy growls.

  When they finally did get the wheel back on and the wagons moving, the guards did nothing more than pop their heads inside to verify that there were bundles of cloth and leather inside, and waved the whole train on. They passed through the north gate without more than a few moments pause.

  Only when they were well outside the gates, and the wheels had left the hard cobblestone for hard packed dirt, did Jewel really dare to breathe again.

  A fist knocked against the wagon wall behind Jewel’s head. “Still alright in there?” Sarvell asked, voice a little distorted through the wood.

  “We be fine,” Rialt assured him. “How be the roads?”

  “Clear, but we’ve got a lot of traffic. I think you and Jewel better stay put, out of sight.”

  “Right, then.”

  The air felt a little stuffy in this confined space, but not unbearably so, and it was infinitely warmer in here than out there where the wind could cut through a stout cloak. Jewel was perfectly happy to stay where she was. However, it did present the problem of what she and Rialt would do for the rest of the day. Just sitting here would become very boring in short order. On the other hand, she finally had at least one of her protectors alone without anything to distract them. It seemed like a good opportunity to her. “Rialt, I’ve never been to Ramath before. Can you tell me more about it?”

  “Eh, surely.” There was a weighted pause before he slowly admitted, “I be no quite sure how to start.”

  “Start with your family, and go from there,” she suggested, a little amused. Was he not a man that talked? “You said you have four sisters.”

  “All younger,” he responded easily, affection clear in his voice. “A feisty bunch, they be. I have always been the one to fetch them out of trouble. The eldest be set to marry this spring, the wee lass be praised. Then she will be her husband’s problem.”

  Jewel bit her bottom lip, stifling a snicker. “No brothers?”

  “To my parent’s relief, no. They always claimed it took the energy of raising five sons to raise me.”

  With his attitude about distracting castle guards, she could well understand what his parents meant. He must have been a terror when younger. “Are your parents living?”

  “Certainly. I have a passle of aunts, uncles, cousins and the like as well. Grandmother passed on some three years back, but grandda’s cranky self be still with us.” Despite the insult, Rialt’s tone held clear affection for the old man. “Most of the clan be related, one way or another. We lose men to the constant war with Daath, do you see. When a man falls, it be custom for another to take on the widow and children as his own. So if not by blood, a man be like as no related by adoption. We call it cennan.”

  Learning this troubled Jewel deeply. How many generations had they been forced to defend themselves? How many fathers, husbands, sons had they lost for them to learn how to compensate for it so naturally? She felt her heart clench and shake at the thought that adopting another man’s family could be so culturally ingrained as to be an expected thing.

  Just what had those previous high priestesses been doing?!

  She forced the question past a restricting throat. “Rialt, have so many of my sister priestesses failed you?”

&nb
sp; “Failed, or were removed when they resisted,” he answered quietly. “It be why I be set to guard you. I will no fail to protect the one woman that refused to cave to their demands.”

  Yes, that was true. With her alive and free, she could ensure that Ramath was always protected. As long as she lived, they wouldn’t lose a whole generation of men at a time to the Daath. The thought made her smile.

  “I must ask, what made you resist? Afore you were thrown in that cell, I be sure you had words with those dog-faced ministers.”

  “Oh, we had words alright,” Jewel growled in dark remembrance.

  “But you must have known they would no let you defy them.” Rialt’s words slowed, each one pronounced with more care than truly necessary. “You had no allies in that place. Why did you stand firm?”

  “Two reasons, really. One,” she reached up to cup his cheek with one hand, the beard ticklish against her bare skin, “I knew you were coming. Well, not you precisely, but Elahandra had assured me that help was coming. All I had to do was wait for you to come. Even if you failed, for whatever reason, I could not afford to cave to their demands. If I did, then they would think they could treat the next high priestess the same way. This cycle would just continue and a lot of good people would suffer as a result.” She paused, struggling to explain something to him that she only felt. “Rialt, most people treat me like an incapable child because of my blindness and small size. And yet, despite those things, I was chosen as the sole person who could protect our entire country. It’s a heavy burden at times, but I knew it would be when I took the position. But more than a burden, it’s a chance for me to return the help that everyone has ever given me.”

  He reached up and squeezed her hand. “Eh, sound reasons, all of them. But I trust you know you will never face that danger again.”

  A glow of pure happiness filled her chest, so strong she felt almost weightless. “Yes, I know.”