“You really are a little strange, you know that?” Debir asked once he had the coin purse safely in his pocket.
“Aye, so I’ve been told. Some might think it strange that I did’na run ye through for takin’ those pulleys from us.” The blood drained from Debir’s face, and he stared up unspeaking at Kaves. “But I had some fun with ya, so no hard feelin’s.”
Debir nodded a little, some color returning to his face. Seeing that his friend still wasn’t talking, Liden cut in. “Is this as far inland as your ship goes?”
“Aye. The river gets shallow up before Kraltys, near impassable for anything this size.” He patted the ship. “Even if we could go upriver, I’d not be goin’ this season. It’s getting hot upriver.”
“Hot?” Liden asked, not sure what he was talking about.
“There’s always some squabbles along the border, but it’s gettin’ worse.” The man then leaned down a little and with a tone that sounded almost like concern, he added. “Set yer rudder to the south. Steer clear of the river.”
“But Astyr’s along the Serpent Tongue river,” Liden protested. “We can look out on the north side of the city and see into the northern kingdom of Merryn.”
“Thar’s some truth to what ye say, but Astyr’s not so peaceful as ye might think. I’ve ‘eard tell of some troubles there. The city’s sitting on the edge of trouble; one small push and it could plunge into bein’ unsafe.”
“Is Freyr safe?” Debir asked, now with full color back in his face.
Kaves nodded. “Far as I know. It’s sixty miles south of the Serpent Tongue River that marks the border. Should be safe, though not as safe as Ryr.” He patted them on the shoulders and headed back up to board the ship. “May good wind fill yer sails,” he called out.
“And yours,” Debir shouted back. “Thanks for the help.”
Liden looked down at his friend, then back to the shirtless sailor in confusion. He was happy that the man hadn’t decided to just throw them into the brig and drag them back to Ryr, but he certainly wasn’t waving and calling out to him as his ship began to move out of port. “So, uh, you guys are pretty good friends, then?” he said raising an eyebrow. “Thanks for the help?”
“I’d rather be on friendly terms than have him as an enemy.” He waved again, then reached down and pulled the arrow from the dock. “Besides, who knows when we might need a lift.”
Liden looked at Hunlok, who just shrugged his shoulders, bowing out of the conversation. “Does anyone remember that he threw us off his ship? Am I the only person who is not crazy?”
“No, you are definitely crazy,” Knell said as she joined the group on the dock. “I don’t know what else I missed, but that I’m sure of.”
“Yeah,” Sarta added with a grin. “If you look around and think that everyone else is nuts and you are normal, guess what we’re thinkin’ of you.” Her comment was met with silence, and she looked around the group for an ally. “Come on guys, you gotta admit that was pretty funny.”
Liden felt bad that she was such a clear outsider in the group, but he felt that was something she needed to work out with Knell. Besides, he wasn’t getting involved in that family drama. “Let’s get out of here.”
They made their way from the docks into the market of Astyr. It was bustling with people and yet, with the wide streets and short, sprawling buildings, it didn’t feel crowded. Debir led them to the side of the street and pulled out the small purse of coins. “Looks like there is a general store of sorts over there,” he pointed at a small building with a man out front loading a sack of flour into a wooden wheelbarrow. “Hunlok and I can handle getting most of the supplies there.” He handed a couple of coins to Liden, then shook his head and gave them to Knell. “Bakery’s over there; can you pick us up a loaf or two to go with supper. Also, if you could check the postings near the chapel door to see if there might be some odd jobs, we might make a copper or two before we leave.” He pointed at the large, wooden doors of the church building on the main street. There was a noticeboard nearby that had some scraps of paper nailed to it.
Liden looked down at his empty hand and back up to Debir. “Why’d you give her the coins?”
“Not sure,” he admitted with a bit of a sideways glance. “Just felt like the right thing to do.”
Liden shared a glance between them. What had happened since he left Ryr? His friends used to listen to him, they followed him out here, and now Debir was coming up with the plans and he was trusting Knell over him. He fell in step behind Knell, not sure how to feel about the sudden change in their group.
“What about me?” Sarta asked. She was left standing while the group split into two to go to the general store and bakery.
“Come on,” Liden waved her over. At least she still seemed content to follow him. They crossed the square and looked at the board where a variety of local jobs had been posted. It was already getting late, so he wasn’t surprised to find that the only two postings left were not work opportunities. One was an announcement that the army was always looking for new recruits, and that anyone interested should go to the barracks on the east side of the city. The other was a yellowing piece of paper that looked like it had hung there for months. It was a message from the preacher encouraging everyone to seek the protection of the almighty and not the strength of our steel. A funny message for a city on the border between two warring nations. Liden chuckled, thinking of what it would look like if the soldiers just all started praying when their enemies came charging in. Perhaps the Merrynian army employed the preacher.
“Looks like we’re not going to be working tonight.” Sarta leaned against the door, shaking her head. “We could try other ways of getting some coin.”
“Don’t you dare steal a single copper!” Knell replied with a death glare.
“So, you’ve finally decided to acknowledge that I’m here,” Sarta replied, stepping up to her sister in a challenging way.
“It’s impossible to ignore you when you get us thrown into the ocean…”
Liden tried to ignore the family argument, but couldn’t help but overhear as they were practically yelling at each other, fighting over who was to blame for the problems they were having. He picked up three small stones and started juggling them to make it look like he wasn’t hearing their debate. Then, just as quickly as the shouting started, it stopped, and the two were hugging and laughing. It made no sense at all. He heard everything they said, and knew that if he had said those same things about Knell, she would never have forgiven him, let alone forgive, him in thirty seconds. Girls were ridiculous!
He kept the stones moving between his hands as he took the lead on the way to the bakery, excited about the prospect of some fresh bread after his experience on the boat followed by that raging stomachache from overeating the salt-water-seasoned jerky. The bakery was an open air storefront with loaves, pastries, pies, and all sorts of small rolls arranged on shelves. Although it was nearly dark, and closing time, the smell of the baked goods still wafted through the opening between the bakery in the back and the storefront. He caught all three stones in one hand and stepped up to the counter and thought he’d try out using Kaves’ unique accent “Thars some mighty fine bakes. I do no know wat’s best ‘ere. What say ye?”
The woman behind the counter looked up and pointed at a large loaf. “The sourdough loaf is a favorite for sailors. It stays good for longest when you’re at sea.”
Liden drew himself up, being filled with a little confidence. He was actually pulling it off. “Aye. That’ll do nicely then. I’ll take three loaves for me crew.”
“That’ll be three coppers,” the woman replied, holding out her hand for payment. Somewhat humiliated, Liden turned to Knell who stepped up and handed the coins to the baker. Taking the money, she put three small loaves into a sack and handed it back to Knell. “Have a nice day.”
“I give me thanks to ye,” Liden said. He spun around and plowed into a tall man who he hadn’t heard step up behind him. “Par
don me,” he added, a bit surprised.
The man tipped his hat slightly, revealing some dark hair, and smiled as if he was keeping a secret. “Ryr, if I’m not mistaken,” he said.
“Ryr?” Liden repeated, not sure where the conversation was going.
“Yes, you are a miner from Ryr.”
Liden scrunched his eyebrows together, confused at how this man had so quickly pinpointed where he was from. He hoped nobody else around them heard what he said. Youth from Ryr were being hunted down in the city, hopefully this man had not heard about the reward. He also didn’t like that this stranger immediately thought he was a miner. He was not a miner. The man then stepped past, and Liden rejoined with the others.
Liden dropped his shoulders and let out a long breath, then he started jogging to catch up with Knell and Sarta. “Was my accent that obvious?”
Sarta shrugged.
“I thought it was pretty good actually,” Knell answered offhandedly. “Maybe it was your clothing,” she said, pointing down at him.
Of course! He smacked himself in the forehead. “Kelp and kippers!” He again reverted to Kaves’ accent. “Next time me needs to take off me shirt!”
“Please don’t!” Sarta and Knell both said in unison while they stifled a laugh.
Liden turned around for one more look at the tall stranger and saw him speaking with the baker.
“Is your husband about?” the man asked.
The baker glanced up, scrunching her brow together in confusion. “He is,” she replied.
“I need to speak with him in private,” the tall man said as he pulled out a small feather and handed it to the baker. “Would you mind running into town and fetching yourself a new dress?” The tall man then handed the baker a good-sized bag that clanked in her hand.
“I’ll just close up the shop,” she said.
“No need, I’ll take care of everything.”
The baker gave a single nod and then turned to leave.
“That’s odd,” Liden muttered to himself. The tall man went past the stands and into the building, disappearing from sight. “Very odd indeed,” Liden said.
Chapter 8
At Fort Haurt, long after Wren had concluded his business with the governor of Astyr, the assassin smiled and handed the sealed dispatches to the lieutenant. Marshal Orwin could be seen standing behind a large, wooden table, rubbing his chin and pouring over a map.
“Wait here,” the lieutenant ordered.
Wren gave a short nod and remained at attention while he waited in the cool evening air. He watched as the dispatches were given to Marshal Orwin. The commanding officer read them and then dismissed the lieutenant. Wren hadn’t personally read the correspondence after ambushing the real courier, so he had no knowledge of the contents, but with the fact that Haurt was a training camp situated more than one hundred miles north of Astyr, it was a safe bet that the correspondence was routine in nature.
The lieutenant returned and relieved Wren. “Feel free to stay the night before returning to Rial. When you return, you may relay Marshal Orwin’s thanks for the casualty report.”
Wren gave a dutiful nod.
“You will find fresh coffee in the mess tent. With any luck, there may be some soup left over as well. Dismissed.”
Wren turned on his heels and walked for the mess tent. He took a tin cup of coffee and some ham soup. He moved to a table by himself, not wanting to mix with any large groups. Usually his actions were dictated by work. This time, however, he was infiltrating a military camp for personal reasons. He had told Marshal Orwin that he would play no part in the kidnapping of a woman, and he was here to check up on the results of his endeavors. So far, everything checked out. The daughter had indeed wanted to be “kidnapped” and was only all too happy to leave the governor’s mansion in Astyr. Her story matched that of Marshal Orwin, and she was eager to catch the arranged carriage heading north. Still, Wren knew better than to simply trust the word of any officer in power.
An intelligent schemer would be able to manipulate the young woman into willingly coming along, but it didn’t mean Marshal Orwin had to honor his word. He might even take the bribe from the young man hoping to escape duty at the front and elope with the governor’s daughter, but it still didn’t mean that he would hold fast to his bargain.
There weren’t many times in Wren’s life that he would pull himself away from his ultimate goals, but this was one of those incidents where he felt it necessary. If Marshal Orwin had been deceitful, then Wren would kill the officer and rescue the young daughter.
He finished his food and left the mess tent, heading deeper into the camp. He passed by a few rows of tents until he came to the only permanent structure in the camp, Marshal Orwin’s residence. There were no guards posted outside, but then that was to be expected. The front door was likely locked, but a window on the south side of the second story was slightly open. That would be his way in. Wren glanced around to ensure he wouldn’t be seen and then agilely scampered up the side of the building as easily as a squirrel and slipped in through the window.
The room he had entered was a small bedroom. A single bed and a footlocker were the only pieces of furniture inside. Judging by the nightgown messily strewn over the top of the bed, he knew who slept here. He quickly doused the lamp and then drew the curtains closed, casting the room into darkness. Wren moved to the door and quietly twisted the knob. He found a simple hallway, void of decorations of any kind, with doors on either side, and a staircase at the end leading down. Voices reached his ears from the stairs. A young man and a young woman.
He closed the door once more and waited behind it.
Footsteps approached the door.
“I can’t wait until tomorrow morning,” a young man’s voice said.
“Is everything ready for us at our destination?” a young woman asked. Wren smiled as he recognized the voice as that of the governor’s daughter. It certainly appeared as though she was free. Perhaps Marshal Orwin was a man of his word after all.
“Everything is ready. My uncle is waiting for us, and we will be able to build a life together, you and I.”
“I love you!” The sentiment was followed by a brief moment of silence which Wren assumed was a kiss. The door opened then and the young woman stepped in while Wren stiffened behind the door to remain hidden.
“Remember, we leave before first light, so try to get some sleep.”
“Oh, how can I sleep when my heart is like a thousand drums?” she said. She gripped the door and started to close it, but kept her face in the doorway, watching as the young man walked down the hall. She kept the door just open enough to poke her head through until Wren heard another door close. Then she shut her door and sighed, looking down at the floor.
Wren seized his moment and clasped one hand over her mouth while wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her off the floor and away from the door.
“Don’t be afraid, I just have to ask you a few things,” Wren said as she kicked and struggled. “Please, don’t scream, it’s me, the one who helped you escape your father’s house.”
She stopped struggling.
“Remember, don’t scream, I’m only here to make sure everything is going according to your plan.” Her body relaxed and Wren slowly set her feet back on the floor. He would have a few bruises along his shins, but he couldn’t have risked her screaming and causing panic. He gently removed his arms and took one step back to the door while she turned around.
“I’ll scream if you try anything,” she said.
“Go and turn on the lamp,” Wren said. “Has Marshal Orwin treated you well, Lewinda?”
“Yes, very well,” she said, her tone softening at the sound of her own name. “Why didn’t you warn me that you were coming to check on me?” she asked as she opened the curtains. The dim light of evening filtered the shadows and allowed her to see him until she lit the lamp and cut through the darkness completely. “You look different,” she noted.
“I use disguises, but I am the same man as before,” Wren said. “As for not warning you, I wanted to be sure that it was a surprise. I didn’t want you to tip off Marshal Orwin, in case he wasn’t honest.”
Lewinda shook her head. “No, he has been honest. He has treated us with kindness and we set out tomorrow to rendezvous with a ship that will take us away from here.” Lewinda smiled and clapped her hands to her sides. “I’m happy. This is everything I wanted.”
Wren could see that she was sincere. Her eyes were bright with hope and there was no fear in her voice. He offered a nod and then returned her smile with one of his own. “I’m happy to hear it. I wish you all the best.” Wren then put a finger to his lips.
Lewinda smiled and gave a nod, and then Wren slipped out the door and down the hall. He found Marshal Orwin’s room and softly padded his way over to the small, simple wooden desk next to the bed. There was a stack of letters off to one side, and a green, leather bound journal on the other. Wren opened the journal to find the thoughts of a tormented man who disagreed with the war. The last three days’ worth of entries alluded to helping a young couple find a better life than his own son had been able to, and then went on to speak of his own son’s death at the front. The skeptic in Wren knew that all of this could be faked, and that even the carriage ride in the morning could be nothing more than a ruse to throw him off the scent. Surely Marshal Orwin would have expected him to follow up on the situation, but Wren hadn’t survived this long as a spy simply by going on evidence. Sometimes he had to go with his gut, and his gut was telling him that Lewinda would be safe.
Still, it never hurt to remind people of their own vulnerabilities. Wren took out a small piece of paper and wrote, “I was happy to find you stuck to your part.” He then placed the note on the center of the desk and set a brown feather with white spots on top for good measure. If there was even the slightest temptation for Orwin to go back on his word, this ought to keep him on the right path.
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