The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1)

by T. J. Garrett

  Daric nodded. Maybe Vierdan wasn’t such a fool. “And you want me to—”

  “It would appear that you make Breen nervous, Major. If nothing else, you may be able to slow him down.”

  “I’ll start right away.”

  Daric’s thoughts turned to Faelen and Corporal Paiden. He couldn’t help the crease of a smile blooming on his lips. Bringing Faelen to justice wouldn’t bring the corporal back, but a promise was a promise; the man would pay for what he did.

  “Not before you get changed,” Evin said, pulling at Daric’s sleeve.

  The king nodded. “Yes, that would be a good idea. Find apartments big enough for the major and his friends.”

  Evin nodded. After bowing, Daric followed her towards the door. He turned before reaching it. “About the Cren, Majesty, is there anything—”

  “The Crenach Woodmen will be welcomed, Major,” The king said, waving him away.

  Daric bowed and followed Evin out. That was easy, he thought. Of the two, he had expected the Cren to pose more of a problem to the palace that Toban and the Rukin.

  * * *

  Vierdan smiled as Evin closed the door behind her. He could hardly believe his luck. Picking up his goblet, he filled it before sitting down, one leg draped over the arm of his chair. A breeze blew in through the window and he nearly laughed out load.

  So, Breen knows nothing of the Rukin or the Cren. The man would certainly have had them arrested, too, if he had known – although having a wolf arrested might have raised a few too many eyebrows, and as for the Salrians… how could Breen not know about the Salrians? The idea of aligning Aleras with its northern neighbours did not sit well, but at least they had a king, even if he was a puppet to the High Council. He would have to have a talk with Evin – the sun would rise in the west before he allowed commoners to vote. Not that his people weren’t trustworthy, but votes could be brought, and ruling shouldn’t be about who had the deepest pockets. Now, if only he could keep Breen busy long enough to tie the Crenach Woodsmen to his cart. Yes, the wolves might prove useful, the major had been right about that, but the Cren… Vila’slae would think twice if she saw a battalion of Woodsmen standing at the north wall.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Green Man

  Dressed only in his smallclothes, Grady Daleman stared out of the window and across the dimly lit road. This was the third time since going to bed late last night that he found himself gazing into the harbour. The second floor of the Green Man inn had an excellent view of the docks and warehouses, and if he cricked his neck a little he could see along the only road leading into Bailryn. On top of the hill, the palace shone orange in the gaslight from the dozen towers built along the palace’s outer wall. The palace wall and the Blue Mile were the only part of Bailryn where the gas lights were used; the bright orange flame was unmistakeable. South of the piers, a few fisherfolk tended their nets, ready for a long day on the water. Bailryn would wake up soon, and Grady had not slept a wink.

  As with most coastal cities, Bailryn was its harbour. Aside from the much smaller anchorages of Halam and Whitecliff, Bailryn harbour was the only port large enough to take ships of any real size, which made it Aleras’moya’s only link to the Easter Isles and the western ports of Beugeddy and Eurmac. Its strategic value was obvious. Unfortunately, valued as it was, the Kel’madden would not be the first foreign army to attack. Indeed, over the centuries, Bailryn had become somewhat accustomed to war. But that didn’t make the prospect any less frightening for its inhabitants.

  Many folk had already taken to the southern road and the relative safety of Linieth or Aralan. Far fewer ships than usual anchored in the bay, and the taverns and inns were quiet, considering the time of year. Grady and his companions could have had a room each if they had brought enough coin.

  Sitting back on his bed, he listened to Si’eth snoring and wondered if the Salrian and the Cren were competing with each other. Even Toban, the grey wolf, had his head under a blanket, curled up at the head of his own bed. The room was for a family: one large bed and two smaller. Cal shared the large bed with Si’eth – the tallest and shortest. But big bed or not, an armchair supported the taller man’s feet. He looked quite a sight. If he were not so troubled, Grady might have laughed.

  “Almost dawn,” he whispered. Mikelmoor would be there soon, assuming his old friend had received the message. Friend? Ha, I doubt the man has any.

  Contacting Mikelmoor was a risk. Friend or not, if there were a warrant issued for Grady, the Tarisien lieutenant would likely bring a dozen guards and arrest every last one of them, including the wolf. The man would turn his own mother in if he thought she was up to no good. Mikelmoor’s righteous attitude had done nothing for his popularity over the years, but Grady didn’t care about that. The lieutenant’s black-and-white moral compass was exactly what he needed: an incorruptible officer. Grady just hoped the man had forgotten what happened the last time they met.

  Grady shuffled along his bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep or not, he was thinking of closing his eyes for an hour, when he heard a quiet rasp at the door, followed by a whispered, “Master Daleman…” He couldn’t hear the rest, something about “a visitor.” Moving quickly, but quietly enough not to wake the others, he bounded to the door and opened it a crack, his foot barring it from opening more.

  Mrs. Cookson was standing in the hall, waving a small square of fine parchment in front of her hooked nose. The landlady, Edie Cookson, was a homely woman, motherly and quite informal with her guests, but Grady had learned long ago not to test her rules; she was very handy with a frying pan.

  “A man gave me a Ren to deliver this immediately, Master Daleman,” Mrs. Cookson said. “He didn’t look the type to take no for an answer. I watched him leave; he was alone.”

  Without thought, Grady took the note and thanked her. Shutting the door, he heard the innkeeper snort and stomp down the hallway. Did she want to read it, too? Homely or not, she liked her gossip.

  He turned the small, square note over in his hand; a clear wax sealed it along one edge, but no signet.

  “You have news,” Cal rumbled, and Si’eth raised his head.

  Toban was already looking at him. “You should have asked her who it was, what he looked like,” the wolf muttered.

  Grady bit back a curse. What was he thinking? “I’ll ask her at breakfast,” he said, carefully tearing the note along its edge.

  There was only one line written along the centre of the page. He read it aloud.

  “The Black Hand know where you are. Stay in the light.”

  Cal coughed as he swung his feet onto the floor. Sitting, the Cren woodsman was nearly as tall as Grady. “It would appear we have a friend.”

  “A cryptic friend,” Si’eth added. “‘Stay in the light.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I would imagine,” Cal said, looking over his shoulder at Si’eth, “they are telling us to look where we put our feet.”

  Toban looked from one to the other. “Isn’t anyone bothered how this stranger knew we were here?”

  Si’eth laughed. “I’d wager half the city knows by now, and the other half will by lunch time.”

  “That’ll be what they mean by ‘the light,’” Grady told Cal. “Warning us to keep visible, and not go skulking around.” He tossed the note on the mantle, then rummaged under the bed for his boots. “It could just as easily be the Black Hand who sent it. Ignore the thing. We carry on as we were.”

  Cal nodded. Si’eth looked ready to say something, and Toban wound himself up again and pushed his head back under the blanket. “Wake me when it’s time for breakfast,” the wolf mumbled.

  Grady paused with his boot halfway on his foot. “Would you like me to bring it up to you?” he asked, with a grin.

  The wolf yawned. “No, I’ll come down. But it is still night; we wolves rise with the sun.”

  Grady stared at his boot, and then at the window. The wolf was right, it was still night, albeit just
before dawn. Kicking the boot off, he stretched out on the bed. Half an hour… half an hour with my eyes closed won’t do any harm.

  A few hours later, and with the sun now streaming in through the window, Toban woke Grady by pulling on his sleeve. Cal was sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling, and Si’eth muttered something that sounded like sarcasm while cleaning his teeth at the small water bowl.

  “What time is?” Grady asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

  “Breakfast time,” Toban answered.

  Grady pulled himself up onto his elbow. Nodding at the wolf, he said, “Five minutes. Just let me get washed.”

  Once Si’eth had finished, Grady quickly washed his face and pulled on a clean shirt. The others sat waiting. Grady was supposed to arrange the private dining room. “We might as well go down together,” he said. “I think we are the only people staying at the inn.”

  Nevertheless, Grady did lead the way down the narrow stairs, watching and listening as he went. Passing by the kitchen, the smell of fresh bread and grilled fish made his stomach rumble. Grady herded the others into the dining room just as Mrs. Cookson rounded the corner. She followed them in.

  “We don’t allow pets in the dining rooms, Mr. Daleman. I know you were friends with Mr. Cookson, but rules are rules.”

  “I’m not a dog,” Toban said.

  Mrs. Cookson let out a high-pitched squeak.

  Toban apologised, but it still took a minute to calm the woman down, and two more to convince her Toban wasn’t a demon of some sort. The wolf had to explain a brief history of the Rukin clan before she gave over on her threat to call the guards. It was Toban’s polite manner, though, that finally won her over in the end.

  “And do you eat the same as them?” she asked Toban, nodding in Grady’s direction.

  “Mostly, yes, but I don’t like fish. If you have lamb, or maybe beef?”

  Mrs. Cookson smiled, suddenly looking very eager to please. “I’m sure we can arrange something, Mr. Toban. I’ll have it cut in strips for you. I’m guessing you don’t use a knife and spoon.”

  Toban laughed and thanked her for her kindness.

  Mrs. Cookson had turned to leave when Grady remembered what Toban had said earlier. “Did you get a look at the man who left the note?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did. Nothing much to say, though. He didn’t strike me as a ruffian. He had clean shoes, but he had his hood up, so… To be honest, when he handed me the gold… well, I wasn’t going to argue. I mean, a Ren for walking upstairs with a letter!”

  “Of course not,” Grady whispered.

  “Is there something wrong?” the landlady asked. “Was it bad news?”

  “A warning, maybe. Nothing of great import. I would just like to know who sent it.”

  Mrs Cookson creased her brow at him then nodded as if understanding. “I’ll be back with your food soon. There’s tea over on the tray.” She pointed at the counter underneath the window.

  Once the door closed, Grady helped himself to some tea and put water in a saucer for Toban. “If Mikelmoor isn’t here by noon, I think we should move on. I’d say we should take turns on lookout, but any one of you three will draw too much attention.”

  Si’eth nodded in agreement. “And maybe moving in broad daylight isn’t such a good idea, either. We can keep an eye on the door from our room. You could likely pass as a man with his… pet,” he said, giving Toban an apologetic look, “if you wanted to look around outside, but me and Cal should stay indoors.”

  Cal agreed, and so did Toban – after giving Si’eth a tired look.

  “Very well,” Grady said. “I’ll go with Toban and circle the docks. We should spot any spies. You two take turns watching the door. Keep an eye out for Mikelmoor. I’ve told you what he looks like. Who knows, he might bring us some good news about Daric.”

  “Do you think that’s likely?” Cal asked.

  Grady shrugged. “I doubt it, but there’s no harm hoping for the best.”

  Mrs Cookson brought breakfast and three of the serving girls. Apparently, she wanted them to say hello to her “wonderful new friend.” Grady could only sigh and let her get on with it.

  The women laughed when they asked him if stroking the wolf was allowed. Grady assured them that Toban could speak for himself. For a wonder, the wolf found the whole thing amusing, or seemed to. After persuading Mrs. Cookson to save the stable hand’s visit until later, the four finished their breakfast in relative quiet, only now and then discussing plans. They finally agreed that they should do nothing until Mikelmoor told them what was happening at the palace. With that decided, and breakfast finished, Grady led Toban out for a walk around the docks.

  * * *

  As it happened, any one of a dozen people could have been spying on them. News of the invasion had spread, and what was just a rumour was spoken of as though it were fact, which, of course, it was. Folk looked nervously at any stranger, especially one with a large grey wolf in tow.

  Grady and Toban returned to the inn twice. Noon came and went, and after lunch, Grady decided he should take Toban and search further south, move a little closer to the palace.

  The street market on the far side of the dock was busy. Hawkers and peddlers shouted about their wares over the top of stall owners yelling for them to move on. The street market was the only place outside of the Blue Mile that peddlers could ply their trade, and then only three afternoons a week. But despite the limits forced on them, they were not very popular with the local tradesmen.

  More than a few “peddlers” were actually ship captains selling passage out of Bailryn. While Grady listened, one man secured passage to Halam for his family at a cost of eighty gold. To Hallam! They could have walked there in little over a day. But as expensive as the fares were, they could have charged more. Fights had broken out amongst those eager to leave, and one man, who paid thirty gold for a ticket to Whitecliff, was selling it around the corner for fifty.

  They were about to leave the square, when Toban said, “That soldier is asking about the Green Man.” He nodded surreptitiously at a king’s guard who was talking with one of the hawkers. The hawker shrugged; he was obviously an outsider.

  “Bless your ears, Toban, and bless that man’s ignorance,” Grady said, as he pulled on the wolf’s lead. “Come on. We have time, if we hurry.”

  Toban growled. “I can beat you there, Grady. There’s no need to drag me.”

  “Sorry, Toban. I wasn’t thinking.” Grady stopped and bowed, which made a good dozen people stop and stare.

  “Well, that’s all right then,” Toban mumbled. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

  Grady followed the wolf through the back streets towards the north dock. With luck, the soldiers would avoid it – uniformed men were not very popular down there. Once the pier was in sight, Toban broke into a run. Grady said nothing, even though he found it difficult to keep up. He thought of letting go of the leash, but a wolf running free would more than likely cause a panic. He couldn’t help but laugh – risking himself to save a Salrian! No, he wasn’t just a Salrian; Si’eth was a friend now. When did that happen?

  The Green Man came into view just as a line of soldiers rounded the corner at the top end of the street. If he were lucky, if both Si’eth and Cal were close by, they would have a minute to get out through the back door and escape.

  Praying that they were not both upstairs, Grady barged his way into the common room… and then froze, dagger in hand, staring at the officer standing in the middle of the room. It was Mikelmoor, and he wasn’t alone.

  “Lieutenant Daleman, what are you doing, man? Stand down at once,” Mikelmoor growled

  It was then that Grady noticed Cal and Si’eth sitting at a table with mugs of ale in their hands. He quickly sheathed his shortsword. Toban sat.

  “So, this is Master Toban, is it?” Mikelmoor asked, extending a hand as if to shake the wolf’s paw. Oddly enough, Toban did raise his paw.

  Mikelmoor was an older man, with a
few more grey hairs than when Grady saw him last. Broad, if not very tall, he was the perfect soldier; the man could look at attention while lying down. He wore the King’s Tabard over his half-armour and stood with hands clasped behind him, very much in control of the room.

  “Major?” Grady said, noticing Mikelmoor’s rank insignia. He was hoping they would be on an equal footing, now that Colonel Le’ode had promoted him to lieutenant. He barely remembered to salute.

  Mikelmoor nodded like it was the most nature thing. “I’m here to bring you to the palace, Lieutenant. Get you in a proper uniform. Your services are required, young man.”

  Only Mikelmoor could call him “young man” and make it sound like an insult. Thinking of insults, would the man remember… no, no time to worry about that.

  “The palace? Can I take it that Daric is released?” Grady asked.

  “Oh yes, he has been released. Released, promoted to Guard Commander and given apartments. He’s had quite the busy day, so I hear.”

  “Daric… apartments… promoted?”

  “Put your tongue back in your head, man, this is no time for chatter. You’re not safe here. Now, I’ll leave the guard outside, how soon can you be ready?”

  Grady’s mind flicked through a dozen questions. It took a moment to register what the major had said. “Oh, uh, five minutes.”

  “Very good.” Mikelmoor nodded at the guard to his right. The lean man immediately marched to the door. Grady could only assume he was off to give out orders, but to whom? He had not seen any guards outside.