by A. D. Green
Renco glared back. His Master’s eyes were shrewd they never missed anything.
Renco turned and saw the girl still looking at him. He faced front.
Renco took a long drink from his stein. It must be a new cask he thought it didn’t taste as crisp or sweet as the last one. he said.
Renco looked pained.
Hiro slapped the table making Renco jump.
Maohong chose that moment to wander over and sit down. “People stare,” he muttered. “Maybe wonder why old man looks so at young man but say nothing except slap, slap of table.” He laughed. Then spying his tankard frowned.
“You drink Mao’s cider? It half empty,” he said, peering at the contents and raising one hairy grey eyebrow.
"I spilled some, sorry," Renco signed.
“You should try talking to Mao you fall too easily into sign. It is too comfortable for you Renco.” Hiro declared.
Maohong sighed. “Boy talk when ready Master,” Raising the tankard he took a long swig from it, “Agghh better, throat dry from talk.”
Renco nodded his thanks to the old man, for his words and for breaking the mood.
Hiro grunted and drank his wine.
Maohong, lifted his stein and gulped the contents down in one. Renco watched Master Hiro’s eyebrows rise the higher Mao tilted his tankard. Thumping it down empty on the table, Mao covered his mouth delicately before letting out a tiny belch, then beamed at them both, pleased.
“Now, where is flute?” Mao said. Standing up he wandered out wobbling a little on the way.
Renco and Hiro sat in companionable silence, enjoying the stillness of not travelling.
After a time sipping his cider Renco regarded his Master, deciding to ask what had been on his mind the past four days.
Hiro swirled his wine looking thoughtful. he replied.
Renco considered this.
Hiro’s look was pensive.
Master Hiro did indeed look worried; his eyes wrinkled, a frown creasing his brow. Renco was intrigued; Master had not spoken to anyone of note, how had he come by this information and why offer it up in conversation?
Renco had his own ideas about this, formed over years from little things that never quite added up. He suspected Master Hiro communed with others, maybe other Masters. After all, Master spoke to him by thought, why not another. How else would Master Hiro hear things without talking to anyone or make sudden changes in route and destination. So it made sense to Renco, what other explanation was there?
As long as Renco had known Master Hiro they had always travelled, moving from place to place. Master had no home to speak of or at least none he ever mentioned. It was maybe why Master seemed to know so many people. Still, he’d never heard Master describe any as friends before and definitely not old ones. That Master would say so much too was a puzzle. Maybe it’s the wine he thought.
Urak! Renco rolled this thought around in his head. Master Hiro and to a lesser extent Maohong, taught him his histories. But, like the bard tuning his lute behind him, he thought them stories, tales from another time. Still, urak! That did sound exciting.
Renco returned to his cider considering what Master Hiro had told him and realised he was excited. The urak sounded like a grand adventure. A change from the endless walking and training that filled his life. However, the more he dwelt on things the more his mind slipped, returning again and again to a pair of blue eyes.
Chapter 31
: Delayed Departure
Marron didn’t leave Thorsten that next day; she couldn’t, not with Nihm as she was. Marron’s joy of the night before had ebbed, fading instead to an aching worry as Nihm lay comatose and unresponsive. That Nihm breathed comfortably was a good sign but her body twitched constantly and was hot and clammy to the touch as if burning with a fever. Marron fed her water and Nihm took it in small sips, but Marron knew this was reflex more than conscious will.
Marron spent all that day at Nihm’s bedside, torn. She felt the urgency of her mission, of getting word to Keeper. Her ties with the Order were life-long and of kinship as much as duty and it dragged on her. But Nihm was her daughter, a tie that trumped all others. Her mind, as it often did, turned to Darion and she wondered where he was. Oh how she missed him. Head pounding she massaged her temples.
There was a knock at the door and it opened, Jerkze’s blonde head appearing.
“Food, Marron?”
“Don’t think I could face anything right now,” Marron replied.
Jerkze stumbled as Viv Stenhause elbowed her way past, pushing the door wide.
“Nonsense Marron, I’ll not pussy foot round you like these great buffoons,” Viv declared. She carried a tray with food and its wonderful aroma filled the room.
“Unhand me lummox, else you’ll find somewhere else to stay,” she snapped, as Jerkze recovered himself and tried to bar her entry.
“It’s okay Jerkze,” Marron said. She was tired, her head throbbed and the last thing she wanted was an argument. He stepped back looking sheepish and closed the door as Viv waddled into the room. Setting the tray down on the table she addressed Marron.
“I understand you don’t feel like eating but you need to. You’ll be no use if you pass out now will you. You really should know better Marron,” Viv chided.
It had been a long time since Marron had been spoken to like a child. She glanced at Nihm then let go her hand, stood, and walked to the table. “Thank you Viv. I know you’re right. I just…I can’t think of anything…”
“Don’t think, eat. Or at least eat and think. The two go very well together I find,” Viv replied. “Have you even slept? No don’t say anything, clearly not looking at the black under your eyes.”
Eyes misting, Marron clenched her jaw shut; tears would do her no good. She looked at the food. It was simple fare, a bowl of thick broth with vegetables and chunks of meat along with a slab of bread and cheese. A jug and cup stood next to it. Her stomach betrayed her, rumbling loudly as the smell of the stew wafted under her nose. Suddenly starving and thirsty Marron leant over and poured herself a drink. It was watered wine, cool and delicious. She gulped a cup down and refilled it.
Viv dragged the chair over from the bed. “Sit, eat,” she ordered.
Marron did as she was told, spooning in the broth while Viv stood over her like some wrathful parent makin
g sure she finished it all. The thought made her smile. It reminded her of her own mother; then of herself and Nihm. She dropped the bread onto the tray and pushed it away, no longer hungry.
Viv assessed the bowl and grunted, it would have to do. Most of the broth and half the bread was gone.
“Thank you Viv. I needed that,” Marron said.
Viv nodded knowing she was not just talking of the food. “Drink more. Tell me, how is Nihm doing?”
Marron poured another cup and sipped on it. “I don’t know. I have some skill with healing, but I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “She's breathing fine. The poison has cleared and her wound…” Marron paused. “…well her wound is healed, its fine. There's nothing wrong that I can see to make her so unresponsive. I worry her mind has gone.” A tear slipped slowly down her cheek.
Viv patted Marron’s hand. She’d heard the blade that cut Nihm was poisoned. It was hard not to know or hear most of what happened in her inn. “She’s strong Marron with a fierce spirit. Maybe this is Nihm’s battle alone.”
“I know, you’re right,” Marron banged the table, “but damn it I’m her mother. I should be able to do something.”
“You are love, believe me. You’re here with her, giving comfort, maybe that’s all you can do,” Viv replied. Her heart clenched in sympathy, Morten was her only child; the thought of losing him was unbearable. Emboldened, she asked what had plagued her this last day, heard in little bits here and there about the inn.
“Marron what’s this all about? What's happening?”
Marron looked up. Is this why she’s here? Come to glean information. No, she chided herself, Viv cares but has worries of her own and rightly so.
“What do you know?” Marron asked.
“I know your new friends are not what they seem. They’re no sell swords. I know two men were murdered on the streets of Thorsten that has seen no murder in more years than I care to remember. I know a boat came down from Redford, full of arrows.” She paused. “Full of dead bodies and… other things.” She looked at Marron, really looked at her. “I have a full inn.”
“A full inn?” Marron asked, puzzled.
“Aye, it’s too early for the harvest fair. Should be more empty than full,” Viv explained. “In truth I was pleased when Amos and his lot turned up, it was good business. Now though folks have been drifting into Thorsten; holdsteaders and their families, others too living out in the wilds,” she clarified. “Been turning up at Northgate telling tale the Black Crow ordered them to town. I’ve had ta turn folk away.” Then a little guilty, “I could do with freeing up those stables in all honesty.”
Marron sighed and for the fourth time in as many days spoke of what she knew. At the end of her telling Viv looked pale and shocked.
“Lord Bouchemeax is clever and forewarned. He’ll do what he must to protect his people,” Marron said.
“Aye well, folk have already started talking, wondering what's going on. What are you going to do?” Viv asked.
“Go south, to Rivercross.” And onwards thought Marron to herself, but we’ll cross that path later. “It’s just Nihm is like this…”
“Well the room is yours as long as you need it,” Viv said, brusquely. She stood. “Better get back. Inn is busy and Vic will be cursing me if I know that man.” Viv walked to the door resting a hand on its latch. She turned to Marron before opening it, “Thank you for telling me.”
“You had a right to know,” Marron said.
“I’ll leave the tray. Try to finish it Marron, for Nihm as much as yourself.” Viv indicated the food. “If it’s alright I’ll send Morten to gather it in an hour or so, bring you a fresh tray.” Viv smiled wanly. “That boy's driving me to distraction, fretting about your Nihm of course. He’s been as useful as a candle in a rain storm.” Unlatching the door she left giving Jerkze a nod on her way out.
Amos and Mercy appeared then, entering before the door was closed.
“Marron,” Amos muttered.
Marron waved them in, a look of resignation on her face. “What can I do for you both?”
“Won’t keep you long,” Amos replied. They both glanced at Nihm.
“Any change?” Mercy asked.
Marron shook her head, no.
“I’m leaving and wanted to let you know,” Amos said, without preamble.
“Thanks for telling me Amos, but I’m not your keeper. You owe no explanation. You owe me nothing,” Marron said.
Amos nodded at her words. “You’re wrong. But I’ll not argue it with you,” he said. “Nevertheless, I’m leaving; taking a few of the lads with me. I’ve told Lord Richard I intend to scout north towards Redford.”
“Why? The Black Crow has his own scouts a plenty,” Marron said.
“Need to see what it is we face. See if my father needs to warn the king, to call for a raising of the standards.” He shrugged. “Or not,”
“I say again, why?” Marron asked, sceptical. Maybe it was fatigue or her headache but she was in no mood to coddle him. “Sounds like you play at games, like a boy looking for fun and adventure.”
Mercy snorted covering her mouth with a hand trying to keep the grin from it.
Amos reddened his reply sharp. “The Black Crow seems a good man, and clever. But he’s a minor Lord on the edge of the wilds and out of favour with Twyford. If I read things right his word carries little weight.” He took a breath. “My father’s on the other hand does.”
“So tell the Duncan. Why delay with a fool's trip?” Marron regretted her words the instant she spoke them.
Amos scowled, angry. “I’ve seen a few dead urak and some dead guards,” It was true. After turning up unexpectedly at the war council the previous night Lord Richard had shown him. “That’s hardly enough to go to my father, or ask the king to raise the standards. I’ve seen battle Marron. I’ve killed people and lost people dear to me. This is no game I play I assure you.”
Marron berated herself. Amos had lost two of his own yesterday. Seb was young, not much older than Nihm, but Silver he would’ve known a long time; an old friend as well as armsman. But Amos wasn’t finished.
“I don’t want to do this Marron but my duty compels me; as yours compels you,” he retorted.
That bit. Marron flushed knowing he was right but felt her own anger rising to meet his.
“Hold the both of you, before you say something that can’t be unsaid,” Mercy interrupted. “Amos does what he must. He has his vanities but this isn’t one of them.” She smiled to take any edge from her words. “As I’m sure you’ll do what you must Marron. Either way I’ll be staying with you, Stama and Lucky too.”
“Why would you do that?” Marron asked, not sure how she felt about that.
“Several reasons; first, you head south to Rivercross as do I,” Mercy replied. Then, at seeing the quizzical look on Marron’s face, she explained. “Atticus, our father, needs to know. In case Amos… well in case he runs into difficulties.”
Marron hadn’t realised they were brother and sister. Now mentioned though she saw the likeness, the line of their jaws and shape of their eyes, the way they carried themselves. I wonder why I didn’t see it before she thought perturbed.
Mercy continued, “Secondly, we’re honour bound to help. I mean I’d like to think we would anyway; we’ve all taken a shine to you both, but I’m meaning more in the traditional sense. The Duncan’s have an accord with the Order and I mean not to break it.”
Mercy smiled, her teeth white and mostly straight. “Finally, you have your duty to do as my brother so eloquently pointed out. Only with Nihm as she is you need help, and that help is us.” Finished Mercy crossed her arms as if daring Marron to contradict her.
“This is unexpected,” Marron stated. “I’m not sure I fully understand. I don’t even know if I can move Nihm yet.”
“Mercy can purchase what you need,” Amos interjected. “Your cart’s too small to carry Nihm and all you’ll need.” He glanced at Mercy, “From what I see and wha
t Mercy tells me Nihm is stable enough to move. At least it seems to me…” he paused choosing his words, “well it seems to me Nihm is sound in body. The battle she fights is hers, its inside.” He looked apologetic.
“We’ll make Nihm as comfortable as we can,” Mercy said. “We have straw and a mattress she can lay on. With your permission Marron I’ll see to the sale of your cart and ponies and the purchase of a wagon and horse.”
“I need to think,” Marron replied. She needed time, couldn’t think clearly. Head pounding she felt frayed and tired.
“You need to sleep,” Mercy said kindly. “I’ll watch over Nihm. Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit and consider our counsel when you wake. You’ll be the better for it.”
“But…” Amos stopped as Mercy snapped him a look.
“You can’t push her into this Amos. Marron needs to decide for herself.”
Shrugging, unhappy, Amos knew a losing battle when he saw one. “Aye, no doubt you have the right of it. Marron I’ll take my leave, may we meet again. Safe journey,” Amos sketched a short bow.
Marron rose. “Thank you Amos. I’ll consider your advice. Be careful out there.” She couldn’t bring herself to say more. Part of her blamed him for Nihm. It was irrational she knew but it was there.
Amos gave his sister a brief but firm hug and left the room, banging the door shut behind him.
Mercy shook her head, “He gets a bit pompous sometimes but he means well.” She smiled, “Now get some rest. I’ll watch over Nihm.”
Reluctantly Marron climbed into the adjoining bed, thinking on their words, replaying their conversation over and knowing they were right. Torn with worry for Nihm the last Marron remembered before sleep swept her away was twisting her heart ring, taking comfort in the warmth that told her Darion was out there, alive.
Sitting at Nihm’s bedside Mercy took a hold of the girl’s hand. She waited till Marron was asleep, her breathing deep and regular. Satisfied, Mercy concentrated. Drawing aether, she focused and shaped it, weaving it into a pale blue wafer thin sheet. Released, it floated above Nihm shimmering as it settled over her. Mercy, attuned to her casting sensed the ebb and flow of life within. What she saw rocked her.