Uprising

by H. M. Clarke

  Ryn tore her eyes away from the cubs when she realized that she was staring and turned back to Dagan. “So, the Dymarki can hear every single word I am thinking?”

  Dagan smiled and shook his head. “Not every single word, but most of the thoughts that have crossed your mind since we’ve come in here have probably been heard by someone. Think of it like this. When you have strong thoughts, especially when backed by strong emotion, it is like shouting to them.”

  “So, everyone knows why we are here?”

  “Probably if you lot have been thinking strongly about it.”

  “I wasn’t, but I am now!” Donal said, drawing a snort from Vannik.

  “I’m just thinking that I should be at the bar having a jug of wine and a mug of ale,” Bron added.

  “Never fear Bron, you’ll be swilling your gut rot soon enough.” Dagan replied. Ryn tried not to grin. “Please school your thoughts, I don’t want any of you thinking anything that a Dymarki might take offence to.” As he finished speaking, Ryn saw a grin spread across Dagan’s face. “Brega, says that the blonde one is the only person with thoughts worth listening to.”

  “Blonde one?” Ashe asked. “Which one? There are two of us.”

  “I assume he’s talking about Bron.”

  At Dagan’s words, the big cat turned and gave him a nod, making both Ryn and Dagan bark in laughter.

  “At least some people are happy,” Ashe grumbled in response.

  “Don’t worry Ashe, I think you’re worth listening to,” Ryn said with a smile touching the corner of her lips. She noted that his sullen expression quickly disappeared at her words and his eyes again showed the smile that appeared on his lips.

  “What right thing are we doing here?”

  “These people may not own the land beneath their feet, but they are still a nation and deserve the same honor and respect given to Myrcea’s foreign neighbors when the unexpected happens.”

  “Well, when you say it like that…Look, I agree with you Dagan, the Link should tell you that. But you promised that overly officious chap that you were going to be discrete.”

  “But I am being discrete, Kathryn. Telling Dhar Etha the news directly rather than having him being told third hand by some poor schmuck that might end up getting a fist full of claws for his trouble, is being discrete and mindful of public safety as well.”

  A loud screech drowned out any further conversation, startling several Dymarki around them to rise suddenly to their feet and look about them as if they were under attack. Ryn paid them no heed and turned her face to the side as Dagan ducked his head away from a speeding black bundle of feathers and claws. As she felt the weight of Peck settling on her shoulder, Ryn turned back to rub her cheek against his warm, black feathers.

  “Nice of you to join me, Peck,” she murmured to him. “Did you get bored hanging around the stables?”

  Peck clacked his beak in reply as the bird cocked his head to glare at Dagan walking next to her as if, out of everyone here, he was the one least trusted.

  Ryn then noticed that the surrounding tents had thinned out, and that they had walked out into a large, clearing at what must be the center of the camp where a large, circular tent had been set up, and Brega escorted them all through its open flaps. Inside the spartan were several Dymarki talking with a large, hulking male, seated on a dark block of wood draped with thick deer skin. Across his chest was a set of deep scars where his white fur did not grow, and the black tip on one ear was missing. The male turned from one of those standing around him and watched as their group entered the tent and spread out at a respectful distance away from. To Ryn this was, quite obviously, Dhar Etha. Once the small group of Dymarki around Dhar Etha saw that his attention was taken, they turned to see what interested him so.

  “What do you want, Dagan Drake? I have no interest in adding your chirpings to my distractions.”

  The voice rumbled, deep and low through Ryn’s mind, making her start. Peck grumbled deep in his gullet and turned one of his beady eyes on the group of Dymarki. She noted that the others–except for Dagan–also reacted in surprise.

  Dagan stepped forward past Brega and thumped his fist to his chest while giving the Dhar a slight bow. “And yet you sent an emissary to the King Regent,” he said as he straightened up.

  The Dhar waved a dismissive hand. “An attempt to put forward our case for land and to educate the Bareskins here of our ways. We’ve had fools come into the camp thinking they can hire us as guards and warriors. Instead, they only insult us. It’s only been luck that those men had not been hurt or slain. These Bareskin fools are determined to be wrong when they think that everyone can be bought. I won’t waste the effort again.”

  “I’m here as a courtesy Dhar Etha,” Dagan said as he rose from his bow. “The emissary and his guards have gone missing.”

  “Wotha is missing?” At the Dhar’s words the Dymarki men standing around Etha turned to Dagan, their ears flat against their heads and one curling his lip to bare his sharp canines in a snarl.

  “Wotha is your emissary? Is that what he was doing in town the other day?”

  Dhar Etha flicked his good ear and nodded. “Anyone else, and those words would have been their last. You are handling this? Not your buffoon of a King Regent?”

  Ryn tried not to gulp at Dhar Etha’s words. Siford was right about not sending one of his messengers, and if the Dymarki killed a Kaldorian messenger that would stir up more tension in the city, if not riots. She felt a tinkle of agreement over the Link from Dagan.

  “I am,” Dagan responded

  “You are a friend of Wotha’s. I know you will see this done right. Because of this, I will wait to see the outcome of your actions before I decide on my course. But know this, the provocations we have suffered at the hands of these Bareskins have worked. If this is not resolved, and my emissary returned whole to us. I will avenge the honor of the Dharmen Dymarki by sifting through the rubble of Kaldor to find justice.”

  “As if there wasn’t enough pressure,” Donal muttered.

  Ashe nudged Donal hard in the ribs and Ryn saw Bron roll his eyes. Vannik was the only one of their group that smiled at Donal’s words.

  “I will find Wotha and the two who were with him,” Dagan said, his voice raised to cover any other comment that might be uttered.

  “I trust you will. If the emissary is not back in this camp by sunset tomorrow, then I swear by Lord Flattu that my warriors will pull this city apart stone by stone until they find him.”

  Dagan thumped his fist to his chest and bowed, and over their Link, Ryn felt a strong ‘tug’ from Dagan to do the same, so she put her hand to her chest and bowed as well. The others slowly imitated her.

  Dhar Etha’s tail flicked angrily back and forth. He then waved a hand at Brega, who escorted the group from the tent and back to the edge of the Dymarki camp.

  CHAPTER Eighteen

  “That’s what you need to knock the rust from your nethers.”

  Bron banged his now empty mug down on the grimy table and grinned across at Lily.

  “Rust?” Lily asked as she cast a nervous glance at Banar next to her. Banar just grinned back at her.

  Ryn watched and waited. Then…

  Lily’s face crumpled in a horrified realization. “Oh! Ewwww…. Bron!”

  Both Bron and Vannik burst out laughing and did not stop as Lily’s face flushed scarlet.

  A worm of guilt pushed into Ryn’s mind that at least some of the time the two girls of the group should stick together. She shouldn’t let Lily become the butt of everyone’s jokes.

  “Bron, is that a braid come undone?” Ryn asked as she pointed to a complicated styling near the middle of his immaculately platted beard.

  “What! Where?”

  Bron immediately tried to look down at the golden hair across his chest while running his fingers over each run of braid. Vannik laughed again and Bron gave both him and then Ryn a sour look as he realized what was going on.

  �
�Very funny,” he muttered as he grabbed the liquor jug to refill his mug.

  “Come now! We are here for a reason.” Dagan’s voice cut through the laughter around the table.

  Ryn’s Pair slipped onto the bench next to her, holding the piece of paper with the names of the missing Palace guards in his hand. She automatically looked up and surveyed the room around them. It was mid afternoon and only a third of the tables were occupied by collections of sailors, wharf workers, sell swords and those who could not afford to drink at what Ryn would class as ‘decent pubs’. One table closest to the bar was especially cheery for this time of day. Four men sat sharing jugs as they joked and laughed. The place was dark and dingy and looked like it had not seen a broom or a mop in the last century. Everything she touched in the joint felt sticky, and she instinctively knew that some of the wet patches on the floor were not from spilled drinks.

  “Did you find out anything?” She asked, noting that there was a charcoal mark next to one of the perfectly scribed names.

  “The bartender owes me a favor…well, several favors in fact, so I’ve called one of them in. He knows some of the names on this list and this one-” Dagan pointed to the one he had marked, “-is sitting at that table over there.” He slowly moved his finger toward the table near the bar.

  “He’s with the jolly crew?” Donal said in surprise. “I would have thought that someone who had just betrayed their employer would be a little more…low key.”

  “This man is the only one on the list that we’ve seen, which means that the other five must be the brains of the operation and at least have the sense to lie low,” Bron replied. “Only a complete moron would be seen getting drunk at dive like this when he is supposed to be on duty.”

  “The bartender tells me that the Guard, Trude, has a little bit of a lazy streak, and has been in here today flashing a bit of money about. It’s that coin that has been fueling his and his friends get together over there.” Dagan nodded toward the table. Ryn turned back and looked at them.

  “How did one lazy guard get his hands on so much money?” Lily asked, drawing a raised eyebrow from Banar.

  “Why don’t we find out?” Dagan said. “Banar, come with me, the rest of you stay back and just keep an eye out in case he tries to do a runner.”

  “Yes, Magister.”

  “Dagan-”

  “Kathryn, just do as I say,” he snapped back at her. She did not feel anything over the Link, but the look on Dagan’s face warned her not to disobey him, and Ryn felt a little hurt that he thought she would. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Ashe smiling at her, and she felt a little better.

  Ryn felt the table wobble slightly as Banar rose from the bench and followed Dagan as he made his way over to the table full of laughing men. She scooted over to the edge of her bench so she could get a better view and was disgusted as the sticky floor tugged at the soles of her boots.

  “A lot of coin for this place.” Dagan’s voice cut over the sound of the table as he gestured around the grungy ale house.

  The guard, Trude, looked up at him and smiled. The table had been drinking heavily since they arrived and the man was clearly well into his cups. “That’s right, pal. Tonight I’m paid and blessed, and all I had to do was turn my head.”

  Ryn could not believe her ears. She glanced at Ashe and Donal, a look of surprise on her face, and saw the same look mirrored on theirs.

  Trude gestured with his mug to an empty chair at his table. “Here, one of you, take a seat and have a drink with us.” He didn’t wait to see if Dagan or Banar did what he suggested before turning back to his drinking buddies.

  “To all my friends,” Trude said as he raised his mug in a toast. The rest of the table raised their mugs and then they all took a drink.

  Dagan grimaced and stepped up behind him. Banar moved to lean on the back of the empty chair. Ryn itched to get up and stand on Dagan’s empty side, but his harsh words echoing in her head stopped her.

  “Hey, step back,” the man said when he finally noticed Dagan’s tall form looming behind him. “I know important people. We’re going to show this city what to do with barbaric catmen.”

  The words were slurred, and he had a drunken smirk on his face as he spoke. But Ryn still could not believe he had uttered those words aloud in public. The man must be really drunk. Or a moron.

  Dagan had his back to Ryn, so she could not see his face, but she saw him turn to Banar. “Constable, would you like to have a word with this man?”

  “Constable?” Trude stammered and turned his drunken gaze to Banar who straightened to his full height and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. The drunken man stared hard as he realized that Banar was wearing a uniform.

  Banar leaned forward. “Who?”

  “What?”

  Quicker than Ryn could blink, Banar reached out and grabbed the man by his shirt front and pulled him half out of his chair. “Who!” He asked with a bit more force.

  “Who what? I don’t-”

  “Who bought you? Who bought the honor of a proud palace guard of Kaldor and made him a drunken Suense bitch?”

  “I don’t–I don’t know.”

  Banar frowned, his face going hard and stone like in an expression that would have made Dagan proud. Ryn could see Trude try to pull away, but Banar’s grip on his shirt stopped him. The man saw something there he didn’t like. His drunken friends around the table quickly stood–Donal would say staggered–to their feet in a belated effort to help their companion, but Ryn and Ashe quickly rose from their seats and glared menacingly at them. It was then that Ryn realized that the eyes of everyone in the room was staring at their tableau.

  “It was a Magister, I swear. He had the seal of the Lord Tribune and everything.” The man’s large eyes flicked between Banar and Dagan, trying to read their mood. “It’s true!” he sputtered at the frown on the latter’s face.

  Banar released his grip on the man’s shirt and Trude’s feet touched back down on the grimy floorboards, making him grunt. Ryn saw the side look Banar gave to Dagan. What if this Magister Trude spoke of is the person they are looking for? Dagan gave him a light shake of the head and Banar turned back to the inebriated guard.

  “You abandoned your post at the Palace, man. You know the penalty for that.” Banar pushed the man back down onto his chair.

  “I expect you to report in to your commander and tell him everything that you know.” Dagan leaned over the man, using his tall, well-built frame to give menace to his words. “We have your name. If you don’t show, we’ll be hunting for you. Now, go. Do you duty for once and regain a little of your honor.”

  The man whimpered in response and looked to his friends. But they gave him no solace. They sat with their hands flat on the table, staring at Dagan and Banar, or at those seated at Ryn’s table. Ryn could not believe that this spineless man had been accepted as a member of the Palace Guard. The man, Trude, looked back at the Magister and must have seen something in his face that put the fear of Bellus in him as he immediately jumped from his chair and bolted for the Pub door.

  Both men then glared at those still seated around the table and they slowly rose from their seats and retreated out the door after their friend.

  Ryn remained standing as Dagan and Banar came back to their table. As Dagan stopped at the end of the table near Ryn, the mage rested a finger on the rough table top as his face fell in thought.

  “There’s your answer. A Magister.” Ryn spoke softly so her words would not travel past those at the table.

  “With the Lord Tribune’s seal, no less,” he murmured.

  “This might be the person we are looking for. This might be the person who wanted you out of the way…. Or dead.” Ryn stammered over the last part.

  “We need to go to the Hall of Justice and ask the Lord Tribune’s office who he has given permission to use his seal.”

  “The man was a drunk, surely you don’t think the Lord Tribune is funding zealots?” Bron’s
deep voice muttered as he finished the last of the contents in his mug.

  “It’s going to be a careful chat about missing Dymarki,” Dagan hissed back through clenched teeth. Over the Link, Ryn could feel Dagan’s anger.

  “Keep an open mind, Magister. The Lord Tribune isn’t behind this. Seal’s can be faked.” Banar looked back with narrowed eyes at the door.

  Dagan nodded. “Or misappropriated.”

  CHAPTER Nineteen

  Leaving Bron and Vannik at an eating house just off of the forum, the rest of the group made their way up the wide front steps and through the great brass doors of the Hall of Justice. They made their way through long, white marble corridors that were broken up by statutes, brightly colored tapestries and paintings depicting the history of the Aequitas Tribunal in all its gold leaf glory. As Ryn walked the corridors a step behind Dagan, she grew more and more awed by the history around her. The Keeps and training schools of The Blackwatch held images and statues of the bright points in their history, but it was nothing compared to the grandeur and riches on display here.