Fire And Ice (Book 1)

by Wayne Krabbenhoft III

  “You know,” he asked suddenly, “I don’t think I ever heard anyone mention your house name.”

  She did not answer right away and nearly stumbled when he asked. When she answered it was not much more than a whisper. “Meneroe. My name is Alysaria Meneroe.”

  He almost stumbled himself. Meneroe. That explained her inclination towards deference. Lord Meneroe was considered a good man, at least when dealing with other men. He was reputed to be less than considerate to the fairer sex. From some of the things he had heard that was stating it nicely. Of course, having his daughter in Summerhall would increase her value to a potential suitor. Lord Meneroe was known for getting full value out of what was his.

  “You don’t have to worry about anything like that here,” he assured her. He felt bad for asking her to tell him. It couldn’t be easy growing up in a house like that.

  “I know. You and Katelyn have been very kind. Not all are when I tell them.”

  “I don’t know if it will make you feel any better, but I will not let you be sold off like furniture.” When she didn’t say anything he wondered if he should have kept his mouth shut. “It is none of my business if you would rather...” That was as far as he got. He stopped walking when she did, and just held her when she fell against him.

  “You do not know what that means to me,” she said with a sniffle. After a few minutes she stepped away and smoothed her dress. “Katelyn said much the same thing. Growing up where I did I was not able to have friends. Not real friends anyway. Katelyn is the first. You are the second. Thank you.”

  The truth of the words startled him. The emotion behind them made him feel embarrassed. They continued until they passed a wide arched doorway and out under the morning sun. There were guards a level up watching the walls.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she said tentatively.

  “Of course,” he responded immediately. After he had inadvertently pried into her life she could ask him anything.

  “Why do you not tell her that you love her?” This time it was his turn to stop. “It is plain that you do.” When he didn’t answer she took it as a sign to go on. “Is it because of your duty? Katelyn has told me of your father. He is duty. In that he is like my father, and would be if not for having you.” She turned her eyes downward. “I hope that I have not said something I should not.”

  “No.” He lifted her head by the chin until she was looking him in the eye again. “I value your opinion.”

  She smiled thankfully. “Your father was not always so, and I do not think he would want to sacrifice what he once had because of the way he is now. I have seen duty and now I have seen life. Do not let duty take away your life.”

  He could only smile at her. She was just trying to help, but it was a topic he had so far avoided. “Thank you.”

  She stared back. “For what?”

  “For giving me the truth.” The truth the way she saw it anyway. He was not so sure. “You didn’t spend a lot of time talking with Margery, did you?” It sounded like something Katelyn’s older sister would say.

  At least she had the decency to blush. “She spoke to me about a few things.”

  “A few things about me?”

  “A few.”

  He laughed and they walked on when he heard the crack, crack, crack of wooden blades meeting. They stopped by the stone wall and looked over and down into the square, dirt yard. Devon was there in plain brown clothes, he was sparring with a dark haired girl who appeared to bounce on the balls of her feet from stance to stance. She was dressed in a baggy white shirt much like Coran’s. The bottom of her brown trousers were caked in dust from the dirt they fought over. The yard was empty except for the two, but two guardsmen had gathered nearby and were looking down at the contest as well. One was young and short, the other was slightly older and taller.

  “She’s pretty good,” the one guard stated, open appreciation clear on his young face. He could not be more than seventeen.

  “Careful who you gawk at boy,” the other man said as if he were not a couple of years older, but some experienced veteran. “That’s the Lady Katelyn.” He watched the younger guard’s jaw drop. “Bother her and you’re as good as messing with the Lord Coran. I wouldn’t want to be on his bad side. Not after what he did to Torvilin.”

  The young one shook his head vigorously in agreement, then froze as his face went pale. He hit the other guard on the arm and pointed towards Coran. The older one gulped as he noticed him for the first time.

  Coran walked casually past the two to reach the stairs that ran down to the yard. Alys smiled as she followed. He looked back over his shoulder halfway down the stairs, the two men were gone.

  “I think that after yesterday you will find that you have a certain reputation,” Alys told him.

  “I do not think that is a good thing.”

  “Really? How better than to avoid a fight than tell someone your name. Who in their right mind would face the man who bested Torvilin?”

  He didn’t have a response to that. It made sense, and if it avoided a fight maybe it was a good thing in the long run. They reached the yard and the sparrers stopped to face them.

  “Finally,” Katelyn commented wryly. “Now for some real competition.”

  “Hey,” Devon protested. “You may be good but not that good.”

  “Who hit whom more often?”

  He didn’t answer that. “Well it is not like I lost to a woman. She is a princess, and that makes it different.” Katelyn rounded on him. “Are you saying I am not a woman?” she asked, a dangerous gleam in her eyes.

  Devon stood there searching for an answer that would not make it worse. He looked to Coran for help.

  “I would keep your mouth shut,” Coran offered. Devon nodded and stepped towards the benches.

  “Are you ready?” Katelyn asked, the dangerous look still there and directed at him now.

  “For a challenge?” He grinned, taking off his sword belt. Alys took it from him without him asking and went to stand by Devon. “Today I feel ready to face many challenges.”

  The look on her face became one of curiosity.

  They grabbed something from the kitchens for a quick lunch after leaving the practice yard. Katelyn’s garb, and more so her sword, gained her some inquisitive glances from servants and guests as they walked through the halls. They were almost to their rooms when they were stopped by a narrow jawed fellow in full uniform. A red plume protruded from his rounded helm. Coran recognized the man. He was the Captain who was in charge of the Queen’s escort when they stopped at Tyelin.

  The Captain halted before them and bowed to Katelyn, then spoke to Coran. “My Lord, I have some information on your attacker.”

  “Good. What did you find out?”

  “The man’s name was Pelmil. He was questioned a couple of months ago regarding a murder, but nothing could be proved.” The Captain’s voice gave no doubt as to his feelings on the dead man’s guilt. Coran did not disagree. “He frequented a place called the Blue Diamond. It is a tavern in the western quarter. Not the sort of place frequented by respectable clientele.”

  “Have you sent anyone to find out who might have hired him?” Coran asked.

  “No, My Lord. I will if you wish, but those types are not usually very cooperative with guardsmen.”

  “I see. Thank you, Captain. I will handle it from here,” Coran decided. It would have to be without help from the palace.

  The Captain bowed again, turned on his heel professionally, and headed back the way he had come.

  His dark haired Princess was already turned toward him. “What do you mean, you will handle it.”

  “You heard him. Guards will only guarantee that no one talks.”

  “What if someone else was hired as well? What if that someone also frequents such a place? What if they see you there and decide it a perfect opportunity?” she finished angrily.

  He did not understand her ire. Did she think he would go alone? Well, he had thought of it
at first, but he was not a total fool. “Devon will come with me.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to him,” Devon put in before Katelyn could protest.

  She just stared at them both until finally talking to Devon. “See that you do not.” It sounded like a threat. Coran had no doubt she meant it as one.

  Coran looked at his friend’s rumpled shirt. “You will do.” He knew that he also did not look the lord in his plain white shirt, but decided to find something shabbier to be on the safe side. “I will meet you out front.”

  “What are you going to do?” Katelyn asked him suspiciously.

  “Find something suitably disreputable to wear. They may not talk to guards or a couple of Lords, but they just might be more accommodating with two hired swords.”

  She didn’t have anything negative to say about his plan, but still watched with narrowed eyes as he left her standing with her arms crossed in the middle of the hall. What else was he supposed to do? If he could make a connection to Torvilin he had to try. It was either that, or wait for the Prince to recover and send someone else to kill him. Most likely he wouldn’t find anything, but he had to try.

  The faded sign that hung outside the door showed a painted blue diamond with the word ‘Tavern’ written underneath. The building itself was in a state of disrepair. Cracks ran along the walls and vines that had come up through holes in the stones of the street filled them.

  Signs of celebration were beginning to appear in the streets. On the corner, two buildings away, a gathering of locals danced and laughed to the sounds of a man playing the flute. Coran ignored them.

  He knocked on a wooden door split by age. He was surprised to find the place closed with people starting to come out and celebrate.

  “Just a minute,” shouted a deep voice from inside. Shuffling footsteps could be heard coming. The door swung inward and a large man in a permanently stained apron stared out at them. His black hair was curly and stuck out from a large head. “Couldn’t ya wait? Everyone knows I ain’t open yet. Not for a few more minutes anyway.” He squinted at them in the midday light. “I never seen you two before. Well, custom is custom and since yer already here ya might as well come on in.”

  He retreated from the doorway, allowing them to enter the dim interior. It took a moment for Coran’s eyes to adjust. When he could see he noticed the lack of any adornments along the walls. Benches lay beside long tables around a straw covered floor. An empty fireplace in one wall held piles of blackened ashes.

  “What will ya have?” the man asked as he wiped big hands on his apron.

  “Information,” Coran told him evenly.

  The man frowned at them and took in his spotted brown shirt and black handled sword. Coran had at least switched his sheath with a worn one of brown leather. His black and silver one would have spoken loudly of ‘Lord’.

  “Depends on the information,” he replied carefully.

  Coran decided to get right to the point. “Pelmil. Who hired him?”

  That was the wrong thing to say. The man frowned at them and started to turn away. “I don’t know nothin about that.”

  “Let me put it another way.” Coran produced two gold coins and placed them on the nearby table. The man turned back and reached for them. Picking one of the coins up, he looked at it closely in the dim light. “Let us say that if I wanted to hire someone to pay a visit to whomever hired Pelmil, where would I send him?”

  The man appeared more agreeable by his discreet words of underhandedness. “Should I ask who you work for?” He questioned with a glance to his sword. There was no hiding that it was well made. If he worked for someone he must be powerful to allow his man to wear a sword like that.

  “You do not want to know,” Coran told him in total honesty.

  The man nodded to himself. “A man came in here twice. The first time he asked for Pelmil by name. They talked, about what I don’t know.”

  “The second time?”

  “That was the next night. Pelmil wasn’t here. He talked to a few different people.” The man shrugged. “Again I do not know about what. In my line of business it pays to be a good listener, but only to those who want to talk. Eavesdropping on the other hand can be hazardous.”

  Coran laid two more coins on the table. “The one who met with Pelmil. What was his name?”

  The man went for the coins, but Coran put his hand over them. The man rubbed his hands together when he answered. “I think someone called him Naras.”

  “What did he look like?” Coran still covered the gold.

  “Big man. Not as tall as you. He had short cut hair. It was really light colored, almost white.”

  “White,” Coran repeated. It was no coincidence. “Did he have anyone else with him? A man with a beard and an eye patch?”

  “No. He came and left alone.”

  Coran tried to think quickly. “These others he talked to. What are their...professions?”

  “Locals. They get what work they can.” The man’s attention was on the golds on the table.

  “Thank you.” He removed his hand and the tavern keeper scooped up the coins.

  Once outside, Devon looked at his friend. “You sounded like you knew him. This Naras.”

  “In a way.” Coran told him of the meeting on his way to Summerhall.

  “But that was before you ever met Torvilin,” Devon pointed out.

  “I know,” Coran replied somberly. It still did not rule out Torvilin, and he could think of no one else. “Come on.”

  More people were coming down the street to join the festivities. Coran wondered if they were who they pretended to be. What if another enemy was among them waiting for the right moment with a knife in hand. Letting my imagination get away with me. Next I will be jumping at shadows.

  “Who would want to kill you?” Katelyn asked for a second time after hearing what they had learned. Like him she had been set on Torvilin. “Besides Torvilin I mean.”

  “What I want to know is what we can do about it?” Devon questioned from where he sat in a cushioned chair to one side of the sitting room in the apartments Katelyn was using. He held a glass still half filled with red wine. “Without this Naras fellow we have nothing to go on.”

  “Do you think he might still be in the city?” Alys asked sitting next to Katelyn on the narrow couch with her hands together in her lap.

  “No,” Coran stated from the only other chair in the sunlit room. He stood and crossed to where a decanter of wine was placed on a side table. He picked up one of the three empty glasses and filled it almost to the top. “On the way back I ran into that Captain again. We questioned the guards who were at the city gates this morning and one of them remembered a man with white hair leaving just after dawn.”

  “Which gate?” asked Katelyn. She eyed the glass he held and he went to offer it to her. She took it with a grateful smile.

  “The south one,” he answered. Towards Summerhall, the way they would have to go when they left. Alys looked at the wine and opened her mouth, but he spoke first. “Would you like some?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He filled the last two glasses and gave her one before taking his chair. “I was thinking. If we have done what we came here to do, maybe we should consider leaving.”

  “I agree,” the Princess said. “My father needs to know what is going on. Also, I think if we are going to learn anything more it will not be here.” Everyone nodded in agreement. “Then I will speak with Robert before the banquet tonight and let him know we are leaving in the morning.”

  When they finished their wine Katelyn stood. “If you two men will leave us, I must change before meeting with the King.” She was still clothed in her outfit from the practice yard.

  “Why? You look perfect to me,” Coran told her with complete sincerity.

  The compliment shouldn’t have taken her by surprise, but it did. She gave him one of those smiles that made her whole face shine, and made him have to remind himself to breathe. “Thank y
ou. Until tonight?”

  Then they were out in the hall. “I have to change too,” he pulled at the dirty shirt he had been forced to use as a disguise.

  Devon wrinkled his nose. “You should probably wash while you are at it.”

  Oran entered without preamble and stopped before the heavy desk. Books and papers still cluttered the desktop. Stemis looked up from the report he had been reading.

  “The one you sent east, you never told me his name, is dead.” The worry in Oran’s voice was controlled. “I told you it would be suicide.”

  Stemis sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I had to try. We have to know what is going on. Unless there is a clear threat I cannot order the Kingdoms to prepare for war.”

  “They already know the possible threat. Only fools would not take precautions,” Oran replied scornfully.

  “Fools is right. Robert will listen. He said he will start preparations this summer. Taragon will as well. Holdon I do not know.”

  “Holdon is always ready to fight.”

  “Yes, but it is coordination we need as well. Voltia will ignore me and Grendin may pretend that nothing is happening until it is too late.” Stemis hit the desk with a fist. “I must know. Even if we are ready militarily, what other forces will we face? We need the wizards of Herrinhall, and those who serve Lords here in Midia.”

  “I think you underestimate Grendin,” Oran suggested. “Mattis is getting up there in years and I think he would welcome one last fight. As for the wizards,” he shrugged, “what does Gelarus say?”

  “He says ‘what will be, will be.’ That is about all he says lately. I need his council more than ever and he avoids me more,” Stemis snorted.

  “Are you sure they are not right?”

  “What do you mean?” Stemis asked.

  “About the threat. I agree that we should be ready in case the Karands move against us, but another Great War? You have to admit that we have not seen any proof.”

  “What about the fire in the sky?” It was supposed to be one of the signs that the darkness was coming again.

  “That was sixteen years ago. Nothing else supports it.”