The Wayfarer King

by K. C. May

  She paced for a while, expecting to hear the door open and approaching footsteps announce Jophet’s arrival. After a time, when it became clear the guards hadn’t summoned Jophet, she went to her cell door and banged it with her fist. “Hey!” She kicked it a few times. “Guard!”

  Some of the other prisoners laughed. “You don’t actually think that’s goin’ to work, do you?” one asked.

  Daia supposed the guards heard a lot of demanding, pleading and general complaining from the prisoners, and had undoubtedly become deaf to it. There had to be some way of getting their attention.

  “Fire,” she said. “Fire! Fire!”

  “What? Oh hell! FIRE!” someone yelled. The other men joined in. “FIRE! FIRE!”

  The door at the end of the corridor flew open with a bang and someone ran in. “Where? Where’s the fire?”

  “Down there!”

  Daia put her hand through the six-inch window opening of her cell door. “Here! Help me!” she cried.

  The guard ran to the door and peered in, trying to look past Daia’s head blocking his view. “Where’s the damned fire?”

  She grabbed him by the hair and pulled, smashing the side of his face against the window’s frame. “My birth name’s Dashielle Celónd,” she said into his ear. “If you don’t get Jophet in here now, I’m going to tell my father, the lordover, what unspeakable things you did to torture me while I was waiting for my chance in his court.”

  She set him loose, and he stumbled backward, reeling with his arms, his eyes wide. The skin beneath his eyes sagged, and the corners of his mouth dipped into a frown. “Yes, m’lady. Right away!” He hesitated, holding the ring of cell keys in his hand as if he were unsure whether to let her out now, or do as he was told and summon the captain. He sprinted up the corridor.

  After several minutes, two pairs of footsteps came back toward her cell. Daia pressed her face to the opening in the cell door, trying to see out. A familiar face came into view: the lordover’s Captain of the Guard.

  Her throat swelled, and her heart ached in her chest. She’d abandoned a life of opulence others only dreamed of, but she’d also left behind people she cared for deeply. “Jophet! Thank goodness you’re here.”

  “My lady! Is it really you? So many summers...”

  “...So many winters. Eight, in fact,” she said.

  “And eight too many,” Jophet said.

  He looked the same to her, perhaps a little grayer, and the lines beside his eyes were a little deeper, but he was the man for whom she had developed a puppy-like adoration as a budding young woman. For years he had entertained her with stories of his adventures as a warrant knight until he married and settled down to a less nomadic life working as a soldier in the lordover’s garrison. She wondered if Jophet knew that his stories were largely responsible for her joining the Viragon Sisterhood after she’d run away. “You look well. How’re the little ones?”

  Jophet sighed. “Growing up too fast. Marga’s already got a suitor, and she’s barely thirteen. It’s enough to drive a father to drink.”

  “By Yrys, how quickly time passes.” The ache in Daia’s chest deepened. Her youngest sister, the same age as Jophet’s daughter, was becoming a woman, and Daia wouldn’t know her on the street. Her eyes welled, but she didn’t mind. “It’s good to see you, Jophet. I’ve missed you terribly.” She thought she saw a glimmer of moisture in her friend’s eye as well.

  “Well, young lady. I’d hoped never to see you in your father’s gaol. What happened?”

  “After I helped your guards slay the beyonders that had them outnumbered,” she told him, “they arrested me for violating some idiotic law about women carrying weapons in Tern.”

  The captain motioned for the other guard to leave them, and after the footsteps had faded to silence and the heavy door at the end of the ward had closed with a creak, he approached the cell door. “You vex me even now,” he said with a grin. “Yet, I’m happy to see you looking so well.”

  “So, how about letting me out of here?”

  He glanced toward the door leading from the ward. “It’s complicated.”

  Daia’s jaw dropped. What was he talking about? “Complicated? Just open the door and I’ll be on my way.”

  Jophet shook his head. “It’s not that easy. He probably knows you’re here, but if he doesn’t, I’ll have to sneak you out, falsify the papers, and offer my men a bribe for their silence. If the lordover ever finds out you were here, he’ll have my head.”

  “This law of his is not only ridiculous but indiscriminate. He won’t like it that I was in his gaol, but I doubt he’d take it out on you.”

  “You misunderstand, my lady,” the captain said. “He wrote the law hoping to capture you.”

  Chapter 10

  “Have you seen Daia?” Gavin asked as he returned to the dining hall of the Elegance Inn. “Moving a few corpses shouldn’t have taken this long. The horses are ready to go.”

  Edan, poring with a pair of Viragon Sisters over maps and papers, rose. The two women warriors stood too and bowed to Gavin. “My liege,” they said in unison.

  Edan checked his pocket watch. “She has been gone a while. I hope she didn’t encounter the same trouble that Tennara and Hennah did.”

  “Seven hells.” Gavin paced the length of the lobby, his fists clenched and his teeth grinding. “I’m going back to the square. Maybe someone’s seen her.”

  “We’ll come with you, my liege,” Vandra said. “If they’ve run into Ravenkind, three battlers will be better than one.”

  A man wearing a mail hauberk and the red and black livery of the Lordover Tern’s guard burst into the inn. “Is one of you named Gavin Kinshield?” the man-at-arms asked breathlessly.

  Gavin nodded. “I am.”

  The soldier strode forward and handed him a roll of paper bound with a ribbon. “A message for you from Jophet Renaun, the Lordover Tern’s captain.”

  Gavin slid the ribbon off then unrolled the note and studied the script. The letters were difficult to make out, as the writing was in a swirling, decorative style. What kind of soldier wrote like that?

  Edan stepped up beside him to read the note. “They’ve arrested Daia? For what?”

  “Damn it!” Gavin spat.

  “She violated the Prudent Law of Arms. Jophet sends you this note as a courtesy.”

  “I’ll spare his life as a courtesy,” Gavin growled. He started toward the stable to get Golam. Behind him, he heard Edan thank the soldier for the note and tell him they would be along shortly.

  Minutes later, as they rode across town to the Lordover Tern’s complex, Gavin cursed and spat. “The Prudent Law of Arms? What the hell kind o’law is that?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” Edan said.

  They arrived at a huddle of white stone buildings separated from the lordover’s manor by a large pond. Gavin had delivered criminals to this gaol numerous times and knew where to find it, though they were stopped by soldiers three times on their way. When they arrived and asked to see Daia, the gaol warden stood with arms crossed, shaking his head.

  “No prisoners are allowed visitors without the captain’s consent,” he informed them.

  “Your captain summoned us,” Gavin said. He pulled the note from his pocket and waved it in front of the guard’s face. “Fetch Jophet now, or I’ll ram this mess—”

  “If you please,” Edan interjected loudly, snuffing Gavin’s threat. “It’s important.”

  Gavin closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. He needed to learn patience as well as a different way of solving disputes. Edan was the right man to teach him, but this way was far less satisfying.

  “…recognized the urgency of this matter,” Edan was saying, “and I’m sure he would appreciate your prompt attention as well. It would be unfortunate if he were to learn that we were delayed because his soldier refused to cooperate.”

  The guard swallowed and shifted on his feet. “Jophet is with the Lordover Tern at the moment a
nd cannot be disturbed.”

  Gavin leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak, but Edan gently elbowed him back. “That’s even better. Would you please send word to the lordover that Edan Dawnpiper of Lalorian wishes an audience. We can address the Lordover Tern and Jophet Renaun at the same time.”

  Gavin nearly jumped out of his boots. What did Edan think he was doing?

  The guard hesitated, studying his two visitors for a moment. “Come with me, please,” he said, probably deciding that he shouldn’t leave them alone in the gaol lest he find himself short one prisoner.

  “We ain’t telling him now,” Gavin murmured as they followed the guard across the courtyard.

  “We may not have a choice if we want Daia freed,” Edan said.

  The guard led them to a building made of the same size, color and shape stones as the gaol, with a similar architecture. Its walls were lined with well-tended flowers, its brick walkway was swept clean of debris and its glazed windows sparkled. They jogged up the three steps and followed the guard through the tall oak door. Inside, a painting of a seascape decorated the wall of the immaculate foyer and a three-foot marble sculpture of a breaching whale stood in a corner.

  Beside the door, another guard stood straight and tall, eyes directed ahead, reminding Gavin of his days as a guard for the Lordover Lalorian what seemed lifetimes ago.

  A young man swept into the foyer from the open doorway on the right. He was too muscular to be a manservant, but he was dressed as one, in dark-gray breeches, white shirt and red waistcoat. He glanced at the guard and Edan then scrutinized Gavin with curiosity. “May I help you?” he asked.

  Edan stepped forward, drawing the manservant’s attention. “I’m Edan Dawnpiper, son of Curon Naredus, Lordover Lalorian. We request an immediate audience with the Lordover Tern about an urgent matter.”

  “What matter would that be?” the manservant asked as he glanced again at Gavin.

  “It would be imprudent to discuss it with anyone other than the lordover himself.”

  Gavin stood still and quiet, paying close attention to the way Edan spoke and held himself. While he could muddle through a dinner conversation with the Lordover Lalorian, who’d been like a father to Gavin in his youth, he’d never been taught to socialize with nobility nor talk as Edan did to the staff. He’d never needed to learn until now.

  “I’ll deliver your request to the Lordover Tern.” He handed their escort a strip of black cloth. “Put a tie on his sword, will you?”

  Edan gave Gavin a wink when the manservant went into one of the offices, shutting the door behind him. The armsman used the cloth to tie Aldras Gar to its scabbard, which would prevent Gavin from drawing it while he was with the lordover.

  Finally the manservant emerged from the lordover’s office and held the door open. “He will see you.”

  Edan paused to let Gavin enter first, but until he was ready to reveal his identity and accept his role publicly, Gavin preferred to play the part of the swordsman. He motioned for Edan to enter ahead of him.

  Two men were in the room; one was brawny with dark hair that had silvered at the temples, and the other was a tall redhead with light-blue eyes. Gavin immediately saw the resemblance between the Lordover Tern and his blue-eyed daughter. They shared not only the eyes and red coloring in their hair, but a determined set of their mouths and square shoulders made it clear they would not be bullied.

  “Edan Dawnpiper.” Celónd extended his hand, though he didn’t rise. “What a pleasant surprise. I see you fare well. How’s your father?”

  “He’s very well, thank you, my lord,” Edan said.

  Gavin watched them as they exchanged pleasantries, noting the ease with which his friend chatted with the most powerful man in Thendylath. Rather, he thought with a grin, the second most powerful.

  The soldier standing beside the desk was watching him. Gavin met the man’s gray eyes and nodded. The soldier nodded back. This must be Jophet. Perhaps he was Daia’s ally, perhaps not.

  Edan gestured to Gavin. “My lord, may I introduce Gavin Kinshield, formerly Captain of the Guard of the Lordover Lalorian’s garrison and my father’s most trusted warrant knight.”

  Gavin offered his hand, but the Lordover Tern didn’t spare him more than a glance.

  Celónd crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “What brings you today, Edan?”

  “It has come to our attention, my lord, that one of our associates is in your gaol,” Edan said. “We’ve come to negotiate for her release.”

  “If you’re referring to my daughter Dashielle, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”

  “It’s imperative she accompany us,” Edan said. “She’s crucial to the success of our mission.”

  “What mission is that?”

  Edan glanced at Gavin. “I’m afraid I haven’t the authority to say.”

  “Commissioned by your father?” Celónd asked.

  “No, my lord.” Edan didn’t explain, and for a moment, the four men stood in silence waiting for another to speak.

  “Then who?” Celónd asked.

  When Edan didn’t reply, Gavin said, “The king.”

  All eyes turned to him. Celónd looked angry that Gavin had dared to speak in His Lordship’s Immaculate Presence. “And you say the king has given her a mission?” He laughed. “I thought I smelled ale on your breath,” he said to Gavin.

  Edan went rigid. “I beg your pardon?”

  “If I could explain, my lord,” Gavin said in his most polished voice. He didn’t wait for an invitation to continue. “Daia Saberheart not only aided the king against his enemies but was also present when he solved the final King’s Rune and claimed the King’s Blood-stone. He regards her highly and wants her freed immediately.”

  Celónd burst out laughing and carried on for quite some time. Edan glanced at Gavin with an annoyed expression, to which Gavin answered with a small shake of his head. Finally Celónd wiped his eyes as he regained his composure. “Have you ever heard anything so ludicrous, Jophet? Tell me, Kinshield, were you drunk when she told you this tale?”

  “My lord,” Edan said more loudly than he needed to, “do I understand, then, that you haven’t heard the news?”

  The pompous smile fell from Celónd’s lips and his laughter subsided. “What news?”

  “About a tennight ago, the final rune was solved and the King’s Blood-stone claimed.”

  Celónd’s face reddened. “Why have I not been informed?”

  “We’re informing you now,” Edan said.

  “Why, then, hasn’t the king sent for me? What kind of insult does he intend by such a crude blunder?”

  Gavin’s neck started to itch. This buck was quicker to anger than even the surliest of battlers. He thought it wiser to keep quiet and let Edan handle things.

  Edan’s brow furrowed. “You’re the first of the lordovers to receive the news. He means no insult.”

  That seemed to set well with Celónd, and he leaned back into his chair. “You know who the king is, then?”

  “I do.”

  Gavin supposed that was his cue, but doubt stilled his tongue. He wasn’t ready to ring this bell, though the conversation would certainly go more smoothly if he did.

  When Edan said nothing further, the lordover raised his brow. “Well? Who is it?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”

  Celónd shot to his feet, face red and fists clenched. “What kind of game are you playing, Edan? I demand you tell me this instant!”

  “Calm yourself,” Gavin said without thinking.

  Those blazing blue eyes bore into him. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Get out of my office, ’ranter.” He pointed at the door. When Gavin failed to move, Celónd motioned to Jophet. “Throw that cocky bastard out.”

  Jophet stepped forward to obey. Gavin raised a hand, knowing he could change the course of this encounter with two words, but they would not come. Whether it was fear of publicly accepting his rol
e as king or something else, he didn’t know. He only knew that when he opened his mouth to say it’s me, his throat closed around the words and would not let go.

  Edan shook his finger at the lordover. “We won’t forget this.” He spun on his heel and stormed out.

  Gavin drew a rectangular piece of wood from his coin pouch and tossed it onto Celónd’s desk. “I took that from the corpse of a criminal. You might want to look into who’s forging your warrant tags.”

  Jophet’s eyes flew wide, but he wasn’t looking at the fake warrant tag. He was looking over Gavin’s left shoulder at the hilt of Aldras Gar. Before Jophet could question him about it, Gavin followed Edan out.

  As they stalked across the courtyard, Gavin wondered whether Jophet recognized the gems. More importantly, he wondered how they were going to get Daia out now that they’d fouled her father’s mood.

  “Can you believe his arrogance?” Edan asked. “No wonder Daia can’t stand him. Why didn’t you tell him? That would’ve shut him up. Ha!”

  “Just didn’t seem like the right time.” Gavin needed a seal of some kind to give his messages an official look until the time was right to reveal his identity. He remembered then that King Arek had given his signet ring to Ronor Kinshield. If Gavin found it, he could press it into a wax seal. Maybe the curator at the Gwanry Museum had it or knew where it was.

  “Gavin,” Jophet called from behind. “A moment please.” Gavin stopped and waited while Jophet caught up. Edan continued on, muttering to himself as he stomped angrily to where their horses waited. Jophet’s gray eyes darted to Aldras Gar. “That’s quite a sword.”

  “Yeh,” Gavin said. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it?” He figured it was only a matter of time before people started commenting on it. A battler would notice it straight away. “Crafted by a Farthan blacksmith in Ambryce.”

  “Listen, I know the lordover can be difficult. I’ll work on him, but I need to ask you one thing.” Jophet met Gavin’s eyes steadily, the way a man would when trying to judge another for honesty. “Are those gems from the rune tablet?”

  “They are,” Gavin admitted. “This sword belongs to the king.”