by H. M. Clarke
Dagan raised an eyebrow. “You think me ugly and past my prime?”
“No, of course not. I just want to know more about you.”
“Going out is not a good idea.” Dagan turned his piercing gaze on Ryn. “We will be too vulnerable.”
“I will not be vulnerable with you nearby. And you know I’ll throw myself in the way of anything that tries to attack you…” Dagan frowned at this and Ryn hurried on. “Anyway, who will attack us in the center of Kaldor?”
Dagan stood staring at her, mentally weighing the pro’s and con’s of the situation.
“Very well,” he finally said, albeit reluctantly. “But you must stay with me at all times and do exactly as I say.”
“I always do.”
Dagan gave one of his disbelieving snorts and resumed his stance against the crenellations.
◆◆◆
People crowded around them in the streets and Ryn would have been jostled if Dagan’s protective presence was not there to deter pedestrians. Ryn had just spent her afternoon being shown around the most important and historical sites in Kaldor, though she had got the distinct impression that Dagan had used the pretext of her tour to talk discreetly to his many contacts about the Capital.
She had asked Dagan to show her The Cathedral but the most impressive monument she had seen so far was the Hall of Justice, where a larger than life statue of Marcus Flamen, the first Lord Tribune, guarded the approach. Its eyes were cleverly made to make those entering feel the gaze of the law upon them.
Dagan had tried to hurry her through their sightseeing, but Ryn would have none of it. As soon as Dagan tried to hurry her the second time, she planted her feet and admired the house that was supposed to be one of Kaldor’s oldest. Dagan tried this two more times before giving in to Ryn.
They were now walking down a street to an Eatery near the main Forum called ‘The Cleric’s Rest’. Dagan had said that it was where he ate while he was studying magic at the academy and the food was simple but hearty. It was also not as rowdy as some eateries and was frequented mostly by Church and Tribunal people.
The Cleric’s Rest is a large tavern compared to the ones that they had past that morning. The black lacquered wood trim combined with the white wash walls made it stand out from its plain stone neighbors. Above the main doors a wooden sign depicting a priest at rest by a fireplace nursing a large mug of ale, swung idly in the breeze.
Ryn followed Dagan through the main doors and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the clientele.
Arranged around the many tables before her was every aspect of person who worked within the Church of Bellus and the Aequitas Tribunal. Priests, Pilus, Sisters and Signifiers sat eating and talking together over steaming hot plates of roast meats and stews.
Ryn quickly moved her glance to the floor. They all acted like normal people. People of Bellus should not act like normal people.
Dagan walked to the bar, signaling to the barkeep as he came.
“Dagan?” His name was called uncertainly from several directions, which made Ryn’s curiosity overcome her dilemma. Stepping quickly, she reached Dagan as he was being greeted by the barkeep.
“Dagan!”
Ryn glanced around as a man stood up from a table, waving for the two of them to join him. He was dressed in tight fitting black with a high collar with a splash of gray at the front. Upon his head sat a heavy purple wool skullcap that proclaimed his office. He is a Bishop of Bellus from the Order of Helial, His God Servant of Death.
Dagan waved in greeting and finished taking with the barkeep. He then gestured for Ryn to precede him to the table.
“Who is he?” Ryn asked as she negotiated the crowded room.
“An old friend,” was all Dagan said before he seated her at the table across from the Bishop.
“Hello Dagan.”
“Hello Joad.”
They embraced each other enthusiastically.
“Sit, sit.” Joad sat back into his seat and quaffed what was left in his mug before signaling for another.
Ryn thought that Joad looked stockier than Dagan, with a plain face and golden hair that sat in tight curls around his skullcap.
“And this is?” Joad looked expectantly in Ryn’s direction.
“This is Constable Kathryn Weaver, from Brookhaven Keep.”
Dagan grinned at the startled expression that crossed the Bishop’s face.
“The Unborn?” Bishop Joad breathed in a harsh whisper.
Dagan gave Joad a warning stare before rising to accept the drinks he had ordered from a serving girl. A serving boy carrying steaming hot plates of beef stew and large cut slices of crusty bread with lashings of butter and a plate of cut cheeses quickly followed him.
Once the plates were set, Bishop Joad had regained his prior mood.
“You must excuse me for being rude,” he said holding his empty mug in his hands. “I am Bishop Joad. Dagan and I were at the Academy together.”
“It is very nice to meet you.” Ryn said as she held out her hand to shake in greeting.
Joad drew his hands back as if from a viper, a mixture of fear and something else unknown crossing his features. Dagan came to his rescue.
“Bishop Joad cannot touch you as it may trigger his talent.” Ryn opened her mouth to speak, but Dagan cut her off. “And do not ask me why because I cannot tell you.”
Ryn gave Dagan a searching look before picking up her spoon and taking a mouth full of the stew. It was surprisingly good. She began to eat heartily while Dagan and Joad spoke quietly together in friendly conversation.
She was just mopping up her gravy with a piece of buttered bread when a thought came to her.
“What did you mean; ‘The Unborn’?”
The conversation between both men ground to a sudden halt and she felt two pairs of eyes staring back at her.
Ryn stared patiently back.
Both Joad and Dagan looked at each other and Ryn felt a small tingle of satisfaction at seeing the magister discomforted.
Bishop Joad turned back to her with a fatherly expression.
“It is just a term that is used within the Church,” he said.
“What does it mean?”
“Kathryn, remember you speak to a Bishop!”
Bishop Joad put a hand on Dagan’s arm. “It is fine, Dagan. It is good to be challenged once in a while.”
Dagan leaned back into his chair, his hand hooked familiarly in his belt.
“It basically means someone not of the cloth.”
“Oh?”
Ryn’s disappointment must have been plain to see on her face as Bishop Joad began to chuckle.
“Some members of the Church like to make us seem mysterious and unknown, but I like to think we should be more open to our parishioners.”
“Then why did you pull away from me?”
Dagan held up a finger to silence Bishop Joad’s reply. For a brief moment, the mage radiated a sense of being obeyed without question. Joad sat back quickly in his seat.
“Kathryn, you go too far questioning the edicts of the Church.”
Ryn jerked back in her chair, startled at Dagan’s vehemence.
“I am sorry,” Ryn said with genuine regret.
“Dagan, leave her be. She did not mean to be disrespectful.” Joad said, trying to placate him.
Ryn thought that Dagan looked like a dog lowering its hackles but still alert for trouble.
“Wonders will never cease,” said a voice from behind Dagan, everyone at the table turned to regard the man that spoke.
He was dressed in the traditional black toga edged with purple and royal blue, proclaiming him to be some level of Magister. His straight black hair hung in a bowl cut around his face. But his most striking feature is his eyes. The right eye was bright blue, the left darkest brown.
Dagan turned in his seat and a smile broke through his stony face.
“Magister Lorin.” Dagan rose to take the Magister’s pro-offered hand.
“W
hat brings you here?” Magister Lorin asked, his eyes flicking briefly to each person around the table.
Dagan cocked his head in Ryn’s direction.
“Business with the Tribunal and the Blackwatch. Kathryn,” Dagan gently turned the Magister in her direction. “This is Magister Darne Lorin, Magister Lorin, this is Constable Kathryn Weaver of Brookhaven Keep.”
Lorin’s startled stare made her uncomfortable, and she felt an instant dislike for the man, though she could not say why. Maybe a reaction to his odd-colored eyes, or his ill manners. He stood staring at her.
Suddenly, as if coming out of a trance, Magister Lorin bowed graciously to her. “Constable.”
“Magister.” Ryn dipped her head as respectfully as she could. She could still feel her skin crawling in memory of his gaze.
Lorin rose from his bow and brushed a hand over his eyes.
“You are not who you say you are.”
“Excuse me?” Ryn could not believe what she had just heard. She rose from her chair so quickly that it tilted and clattered to the floor.
“Darne Lorin, this is Kathryn Weaver.” Dagan touched him gently on the shoulder when he gave no response, “Magister Lorin?”
“But I am sure I was shown someone else…” Lorin’s forehead crinkled in confusion as he turned to look at Dagan. “Just like I do when I look at you…”
“You saw a vision?” Bishop Joad asked from his end of the table.
Magister Lorin nodded.
“What did you see?” Bishop Joad asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“Someone shining,” Magister Lorin softly said. He then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers as if stilling a headache.
“The vision is gone.” Magister Lorin said after a moment, a note of loss in his voice.
Ryn’s fuming had turned to puzzlement before Dagan clarified the man’s behavior.
“Magister Lorin has been blessed by his Talent with the gift of Sight. He can see aspects of the future, though not in its entirety.”
Ryn nodded in understanding. She had heard of magi that have been born with the Talent of seeing. Knowing the future in her mind, at least, was a curse, not a blessing. No wonder she felt an instant dislike to the man. Those odd eyes.
Instinctively, she stepped back a pace away from Magister Lorin. Dagan’s sharp eyes saw this, and he offered the Magister his vacated seat.
“Father, sit down and keep Bishop Joad company. Kathryn and I must depart back to the Blackwatch Barracks.”
Dagan clasped hands with each man before escorting Ryn from the busy eatery.
CHAPTER SIX
“Hey, Dagan! Ryn!”
Ryn turned at the sound of her name and saw Ashe trotting toward them from the main hall of the Blackwatch Barracks with Donal following along behind like an anxious puppy.
“Ashe, Donal. What’s up?” she called back at them.
“We’ve had a message come in from Brookhaven. We’ve been looking for you; we didn’t realize that you had both gone out.” Ashe gave Ryn an inscrutable look and after a moment Donal continued to give the news.
“The commanders have sent word of what their preliminary investigations have turned up,” Donal handed an opened and a sealed message to Dagan. Who immediately took the messages and opened them. Ashe kept his eyes on Ryn and his constant glare was beginning to make her uncomfortable.
She turned her attention back to her Pair. “What does it say? Is there anything mentioned that can help us with what is going on in the Tribunal?” As she spoke, she tried to look over Dagan’s shoulder to get a glimpse of what it said. But he was wise to her snooping and adjusted the paper to keep it out of her view.
“Give me a chance to read it properly, and then I might tell you.”
“Might?”
Dagan sighed. “Will. With redactions.”
“I’ll accept that.” Ryn stepped away to stand next to Ashe and Donal as Dagan went back to reading.
“Where did you two disappear to this afternoon?” Ashe asked her quietly.
“Dagan took me out to see the city. I’ve not been here before. Have you?” she replied.
“No, I haven’t,” he said
“Where’s Banar and Lily?” she asked, only just noticing that they were not there.
“Banar wants to finish his dinner, and Lily is chatting up some Kaldorian Constable, who to be honest, is more interested in Banar than her,” Donal said with a smirk.
“Donal, that’s not nice. Have you still got it in for Lily after she ignored you?”
“Come on Ryn, I’m totally over her,” Donal replied making a cutting motion with his hand.
“Yeah, he’s beginning to moon over Vannik now. There are some things that I wish the Pairing bond would keep secret,” Ashe said with a grimace.
“I don’t moon. It’s purely professional.”
“Yeah… right.”
“Come one guys,” Ryn said as she stepped between them and stretched her arms over each of their shoulders. “Everyone knows that Donal and Vannik will make the perfect couple, because when they snore in chorus, they make beautiful music together.”
“Ryn-”
“Donal, did you know that you look cute when you blush?”
Donal glared at Ryn, deciding that was better than saying anything else.
She turned and looked at Ashe and caught him grinning.
“It looks like both you and Ashe will be going out to the farmhouse this evening after all,” Dagan said as he folded the paper and slipped it into one of the pockets in his coat. “Hemsbrook has issued orders for us to investigate events and leads that have any connection with Henly’s Brookhaven group. We are to work closely with the Aequitas Tribunal but are to take our orders directly from Brookhaven.”
“What about the second note? I saw two papers in your hand,” Ryn asked.
“That is from Kimba and for the moment, I’m redacting it.” Dagan gave her a slight smile. “It relates to matters that are unrelated to the case we are currently investigating.” She then saw the smile drop into a frown as his eyes noted her arms around Donal and Ashe.
Ryn was just opening her mouth to say something smart when the Magister abruptly turned away from her and looked toward the front gate. “Wotha!” he called out and Ryn followed his gaze.
Walking toward them were a trio of very large, and very fierce looking creatures. To Ryn they looked like big white cats walking upright on their hind legs, but these were shaggier and covered in black and gray stripes. Long, black tipped tails curled behind them and they wore bandoleers holding bulging pockets and bristling with knives. She felt her jaw drop as she realized what these were.
“Dymarki…” she heard Donal whisper.
“What are they doing this far south?” was Ashe’s comment.
“Whoever they are, it seems that Dagan knows them,” she said letting her arms drop from their shoulders. “He seems to know everyone.”
Dagan thumped his fist to his chest and gave a bow as the large cats joined them. “Well met. What brings you and your clan here to Kaldor?”
The largest of the trio snorted and jerked his chin, and Dagan turned back to look at the three of them and then looked back at the Dymarki. “Sorry, excuse my manners. Let me introduce you to my companions.” The three turned their attention to the Blackwatch constables, and Ryn could not help but note the tips of large claws poking out from the tips of their paw like fingers. “This is Kathryn Weaver, Cornelius Ashe and Donal Fergus,” Dagan said, pointing to each of them in turn. “They are from the Blackwatch at Brookhaven.”
The three Dymarki thumped a fist to their chest and bowed. Then Ryn nearly jumped when she heard a strange voice pop into her head. ‘I am Wotha, and this is Hella and Serta. We are honored to meet members of the Blackwatch.’
Ryn glanced at the others and saw the same look of confusion on both their faces. She felt a burst of humor come over her link and she narrowed her eyes at Dagan.
“I forgot
to warn you that the Dymarki talk with their mind. It’s hard to speak Myrcean through that forest of sharp teeth they have.”
Ryn blinked. And then wondered if the Dymarki would be offended about the teeth comment. Ryn quickly recovered her composure and thumped her fist to her chest, bowed and said. “It is very nice to meet you Wotha, Hella and Serta.” Ashe and Donal gave their salute as she spoke.
“What brings you to Kaldor?” Dagan asked again.
‘We have come south to get supplies. Most of our people have gone back to Alleron now that the Spell barriers have lifted from across the Grotto land bridge and they have taken most of our communal property with them.’
“The Barriers are gone? And after all these generations, your people have just gone back?”
The tall Dymarki nodded. ‘A small portion of us did not want to return. We have made a life here and were born here. This is our home, not some mythical homeland that even the Elders barley remember the tales of. What is left here of my people have elected Etha as leader.’
“Etha’s your leader? Isn’t your Cearc usually female?”
‘The Cearc still leads the Dymarki. But we choose to remain in exile, so we now call our branch the Dharman Dymarki, The Exiled, and Etha has been given the title of Dhar. The Dhar and a large group of us have come to ask the Dragonthrone on behalf of the rest of my people if we can claim land near this area and become citizens of Mrycea. If we are to stay in this land, then we need to make things binding.’
“What brings you here to the Barracks?”
‘I could ask the same thing of you.’ The Dymarki said, raising a tufted eyebrow.
“I am now a member of the Blackwatch.”
‘And we have come to register our presence in the city. Apparently we are walking weapons and the authorities want to make sure we operate within the law. Once we swear featly and get a grant of land and are true citizens, we hope all that will change.’
“I wish you luck.”
‘We will be in the city for a while. You and your friends should come visit us. We are encamped in the market square near the wharves against the river.’