Quench the Day (Red Wolf Trilogy Book 1)

by Shari Branning

  The door slapped open, bringing a small blizzard of ice and gusting wind with it. Half a dozen men filed in, tipping the room from comfortably full to over-crowded. They were soldiers.

  The innkeeper, busy filling mugs and talking to patrons, looked alarmed, hurrying over to greet them.

  “Good evening! Hello! Ah, please, find whatever seats you can. Will you be supping tonight?”

  The captain nodded, scanning the room. “We’re also looking for someone.” He fumbled with his icy overcoat and pulled out a roll of paper. Every eye in the room was on him as he unrolled it and held it out, revealing a detailed sketch of the Shonnowan mask Aaro wore. “Has anyone seen this man?” Every eye in the room went from the sketch to Aaro. The captain followed their collective gaze.

  Aaro rose slowly, his hands spread, hovering over his weapons belt. “Looks like you found me.”

  The captain looked relieved as he rolled the paper up and strode over. He touched the brim of his hat. “Captain Alonso Fernand.” He glanced at the two old men Aaro had been sharing the table with. They grabbed their plates and hustled away. Alonso sat down, while his men found places here and there throughout the room. He studied Aaro’s mask. “Shonnowan work, isn’t it?” He asked.

  Aaro dipped his head in a nod, returning to his meal cautiously while keeping one hand on his gun under the table.

  “What can I call you?”

  “Nothing.”

  The captain studied him for another moment. He was a tall man with sharp brown eyes, which were about the only thing Aaro could see of him beneath layers of wool and ice. He took off his hat and set it on the table, unwound his scarf, and tugged at the fingers of his gloves.

  “Well then, Nameless Sir, King Ormand D’Araines demands an audience with you, as soon as we can make it back to the castle.”

  “Ormand does nothing without demanding.”

  Alonso nodded. “That’s true enough.”

  “What does he want with me? And what has he ordered you to do if I don’t come?”

  The corners of Alonso’s mouth twitched. “I’m to kill you, of course. But I believe the king has somewhat more benign plans, at least for the moment. You’ve gained yourself a reputation, Nameless One. Shall I call you Mask? For that is all anyone knows of you, is your mask.” He smiled as the bar maid brought him a plate of food. Unfortunately for him, her eyes stayed on Aaro, and he had to endure another round of attempted flirting before she left.

  “And what are Ormand’s plans?

  The captain stabbed his fork into the meat pie and took a bite. “This is fabulous,” he said with his mouth full. “I’m cold through and through, and the pepper is almost as good as liquor for warming you up. Well, perhaps not. But being on duty, pepper will have to do.” He brushed his napkin across his moustache. “I believe Ormand has a job for you.”

  “Why?” Aaro asked. “He’s got plenty of men to do his killing.”

  The captain shrugged, saying between bites, “I don’t know if it’s killing he has in mind. Then again, who does know what goes on in the king’s mind?” He shrugged again. “He’s got plans of some kind. I believe he’d take over the world, if he had the resources.”

  “No doubt.”

  Aaro sat in silence, watching the other man eat. The reason he hadn’t killed Ormand yet was simply that he hadn’t had an opportunity. After the destruction of Aaro’s ranch, Ormand had become more careful, almost paranoid, no doubt fearing some of Aaro’s more outspoken supporters. Someone who had had enough and was willing to do something about it. And there had been a few incidents, though only one of the would-be assassins had been caught. He’d been hanged in the market square. The other attempts had been unsuccessful, but the men involved had been able to vanish. And Ormand had upped his guards. He never walked the market any more. He rarely stepped outside the walls around the castle grounds, and from there it was impossible to get close enough.

  But if Ormand had sought him out for an audience… That might be the chance Aaro needed.

  “So, will you be coming with us tomorrow, or shall I kill you?” Alonso asked.

  Aaro grinned, bringing his hand holding the gun out from under the table and setting it on top, the gun pointed at Alonso’s chest. “You could try,” he said. “But I have my own reasons for wanting to see the king.”

  Alonso nodded, polishing off the last of his supper and washing it down with a gulp of coffee. “Good. We leave at dawn. Provided this blizzard doesn’t pick up.”

  * * * * *

  It was two days’ ride east through a foot of snow before they saw the dark blot of Skybreak against the white horizon. Aaro hadn’t been truly warm since they left the inn, though it had warmed up considerably. Winter hadn’t even fully set in yet, though winter solstice celebrations were only a few weeks away. His mask kept the brunt of the cold off the upper part of his face, while his hood and scarf protected the rest. His wide-brimmed hat was pulled down over top of the hood, snugging it closer to his head and keeping the wind from blowing it off. But the rest of him felt chilled through by the time they rode through the gates and into Ormand’s stables, where they handed the horses over to be cared for. He decided it was high time to find someplace to hole up for the winter, once his business with Ormand was over.

  “Come to the barracks and get warm before you see the king,” Alonso said. “A man half warm is a man with half his wits.”

  “Thanks.”

  He followed the captain past the soldier’s barracks, long buildings newly constructed of rough pine, and into the officers’ quarters, which they had to themselves. The castle had had a garrison before, of course, but the three buildings they passed had been put up within the past year.

  The two of them crowded around a pot-bellied stove, dripping melted snow onto the floor planks. A boy brought them coffee, which they couldn’t drink until they’d shed scarves and gloves and several layers of coats.

  “The king wants to see you within the hour,” the boy said, bouncing from foot to foot as they struggled out of their wraps. “Captain, sir, he said to make sure you and the…the…” he faltered as he looked at Aaro’s mask, and his voice dropped. “The mercenary, both of you are to come to him in the throne room.”

  Alonso waited for the boy to leave before grumbling unintelligibly under his breath.

  “Ormand is building his army,” Aaro said, flicking his fingers by way of gesture back toward the new buildings they’d passed. “Where’s he getting his men?”

  Alonso shrugged. “Here and there. Criminals, mercenaries, some that don’t speak the language too well, and some that would rather not be here. Some of ‘em are too young. In my opinion. And he’s got his regular troops that Heymish commissioned to come out here years ago.”

  “Who is he going to war against?”

  The captain just shrugged. “Who can say.”

  “How many?”

  “I wouldn’t be any kind of a captain if I told you that. But you’ve got eyes. Those three barracks are full, plus another three over on the other side. We put up a stockade around everything over the summer.”

  Aaro made a quick estimate. Ormand must have close to two thousand men on the premises. He turned his attention back to the captain, studying him. The other man didn’t appear to have any great love for the king, and even his loyalty seemed questionable. That could be useful. Unless it was simply his manner to be flippant and off-hand, or unless he was putting on an act. Though, after two days in the snow together, he didn’t think the latter option likely. A man tended to show his true nature when he was cold and uncomfortable for extended periods of time.

  Alonso left the stove long enough to get a fresh uniform, and a clean shirt for Aaro. He set his empty coffee cup on the stove and peeled off the oversized wool socks he wore over top of his boots, then stripped down to his trousers, which were also wool.

  “Trust Ormand not to leave time for a decent bath, then likely give the stink-eye for showing up smelling like wet shee
p.”

  When they’d changed into clean shirts they set out for the castle, a short walk from the barracks, but far enough to chill Aaro all over again now that he wore lighter clothes. He’d strapped his weapons belt back on, waiting for Alonso to forbid it, but the captain said nothing.

  A shoulder-height wall separated the officer’s quarters and new barracks from the castle proper, and once they stepped through a wrought iron gate, they had to cross a cobbled carriage way and flagstone paved courtyard before they entered a heavily guarded vestibule. A fireplace at each end warmed the long room, ensuring no winter drafts entered the castle.

  “You’ll have to leave your weapons here,” one of the guards said, coming forward to take Aaro’s belt with the twin daggers and guns. Aaro unbuckled it and handed it over, but the man paused with it in his hands. He looked up and met Aaro’s eyes through the mask.

  “Problem?” Aaro said. Inside he’d gone icy. He had recognized the guard the second he walked in as one of the ones who’d been there the day they burned the ranch. He was on Aaro’s kill list.

  “No…” the man still hesitated. “Seems like I’ve seen this gettup before. You got anything else on you?”

  Aaro gave a noncommittal shrug and pulled another knife from his boot, adding it to the pile.

  “Search him.”

  Two more guards came forward and patted down Aaro’s trousers and shirt.

  “Take off your boots.”

  Aaro complied, tipping them upside down to show that they were empty. The guard inspected them anyway before he tossed them back.

  “Now the mask.”

  “No.”

  The guard stepped up to Aaro, grabbed the edge of his mask, and tried to rip it off. Aaro’s head jerked sideways as if he’d been struck, and he felt the magic tingle against his face. The guard backed off and stared at him.

  “I’m here at Ormand’s request,” he said. “I’m happy to go back to minding my own business, if he can’t take me the way I am.”

  The guard growled, but at a warning look from Alonso, and he waved them on.

  They entered a ballroom, huge and echoingly empty, with a grand staircase ascending to a balcony at the far end. Alonso led him through a side door and several smaller rooms before they entered the throne room, situated, Aaro guessed, at the heart of the palace, and also heavily guarded, and where he was searched a second time.

  Aaro didn’t know what he expected to feel, coming into Ormand’s presence after three and a half years. Burning rage, perhaps. But all he felt as he looked at his cousin was bitter cold. Colder than the blizzard and the coming winter. Colder than the wind across the frozen prairie. Numb, aching, cold. He stood before the man who had killed his wife, and imagined what he would do if he had his weapons. Every move played out in his head in detail. He’d make sure there was lots of blood. But not so much that death could come too soon.

  Ormand returned his scrutiny with the same intensity. He still wore his usual fine embroidered vest, with a decorative sword and dagger strapped to his waist on a fancy, silver buckled belt. “I had begun to wonder if you existed,” he said when the silence started to become burdensome. “Our phantom assassin.” He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his throne. “Do you have a name?”

  “No.” Aaro lowered his voice to a gravelly pitch. Ormand cocked his head, listening, but no hint of recognition touched his expression.

  “Have it your way. But you’ve been killing an alarming number of my supporters over the past several years. Who is paying you?”

  Aaro remained silent.

  “Alright then, I am willing to buy the answer. What is your price?”

  Aaro allowed a hint of a smile to reach his lips, but still ignored the question. “For what purpose did you bring me here? My secrets are my own to keep.”

  “Excellent.” Ormand sat back. “There were several reasons why I hunted you down. I cannot afford you working for my enemy, whoever he may be. So you will work for me now. Your secrets can’t be bought, which is good, however I still desire to know who is trying to cut off my support. They won’t succeed, of course. But it is always wise to know one’s enemies. Perhaps we can come to an understanding.

  “And I admire your work. It’s clean. Surgical. As I said, I doubted your existence. A good quality for an assassin. Yet here you are, in the flesh. And just in time for the mission I have for you.”

  Aaro raised his eyebrows. No one could see his expression beneath his mask, thankfully, for he was showing his surprise. He stifled the sudden urge to laugh. A bitter, ironic laugh it would have been.

  “Name your price, Mask,” Ormand demanded, leaning forward, searching his face again as though he could see beyond the leather and silver.

  “First, name your mission.”

  Ormand nodded slowly and sat back. “Fair enough.” He snapped his fingers and a servant stepped forward with a small, flat wooden box, about the size of a man’s hand. Ormand took the box, then the key which the servant drew from a string around his neck. He unlocked it and flipped the lid back, holding it out for Aaro to see a silver medallion resting inside, with three smaller, separate pieces to one side.

  “This is a piece I had commissioned from a Shonnowan magician in my employment. I believe you are familiar with the work of the Shonnowa. If I’m not mistaken, your mask is another example of it, which is probably why I have not been able to gather any rumors as to your identity.”

  He snapped the box closed and locked it, but did not return it to the servant. “This particular set has been over four years in the making.” He ran his hands over the smooth wood, reinforced with iron bands. “I need a man to deliver it to the Shonnowan king without letting it fall into anyone else’s possession. No one must touch it except for him.”

  “The Shonnowa have no king.”

  “Ah, but they do.” Ormand smiled.

  Beside Aaro, the captain shifted, and he shot him a quick glance. The man’s lips were pressed together, and he had a slight pucker between his eyes. Again, Aaro had the impression that his loyalty to the king was being stretched. He was uncomfortable with something about the situation—perhaps he had an idea what Ormand’s plans were and disapproved. Yet the king didn’t question him coming into his presence fully armed, so he must not suspect. That could be very useful.

  “We know the Shonnowa as reclusive folk, nomads who hide in the hills save for the merchants and traders,” Ormand went on, his eyes roving across the high, vaulted ceiling. “But those are the outcasts. The people so kind as to build this town and then leave it vacant for us to settle in. The real Shonnowa nation is much stronger, but even more elusive. And more treacherous.” His eyes glinted, his gaze returning to Aaro. “I desire to negotiate with their king. To at last form an alliance with our neighbors to the north. And you will be my emissary.”

  Aaro was taken aback. Was this a trick? “And how do you plan to form an alliance with a nation you deem as treacherous?” he asked.

  Ormand lifted the box with the medallion from his lap. “With the help of this. But it must be done this winter. Before the snow melts. And no one can hear of it. You don’t sell your secrets. That is well. If you do, you will die. Now what is your price?”

  “Where is this Shonnowan king?” Aaro asked. “How far?”

  Ormand heaved an irritated sigh. “No one knows. My information only tells me that their place is to the north, beyond the mining settlement of Silver Rock. Once there, hopefully you will be able to hear more rumors. Any other questions, please direct to my captain.” He waived at Alonso. “Now. What is your price?”

  “A thousand in silver coin.”

  “Preposterous.”

  Aaro tilted his head. “You are buying nearly two weeks’ journey both ways, and probably much longer, in the start of winter. And also my silence, never forget.”

  “Fine then. Done. You’ll be paid fifty now and the rest on your successful return. It would never do to go wandering the wilderness overloaded w
ith payment. A man could get his throat slit that way.”

  “True.” Aaro bowed stiffly from the waist.

  Ormand held out the box to him. “Remember, do not touch the medallion. Do not let anyone touch it, save the king.”

  “And if I must give a reason?” Aaro said. “What does it do?”

  “Do not give them reason to ask. Only tell the king that it is a powerful gift. It is the highest magic, wrought by a master. No such device has ever been successful before.”

  Aaro took the box, feeling like he held a viper.

  “Do come back alive,” Ormand said. “I have other work for you to do.”

  Aaro turned away, the captain at his side, and moved toward the door.

  “One more thing,” Ormand called. When they turned back, he said, “I keep hearing rumors from my garrison at Silver Rock. There is a wolf that has been spotted in the area. A great red beast that has no fear of men, that they say the Shonnowa—the outcasts—have tamed. I have an interest in this creature. If you see it, and if it’s as tame as they say, it may be possible to snare it. An extra hundred coin if you bring her back to me alive.”

  Chapter 10

  Aaro raised his brows, wondering what this new piece in Ormand’s mad game could be. What use could he have for a wolf? He nodded to the king, then followed Alonso back through the palace, retrieving his weapons from the guards, and returned to the officers’ quarters. The pot of coffee on the wood stove had been refilled, and they had the place to themselves.

  The captain pulled a couple of chairs from the table strewn with charts, books, and coffee mugs, over to the stove. He sat down and started tugging his boots off.

  “’Bout time,” he muttered, peeling off layers of socks and stretching his bare feet in front of the fire. “I don’t envy you this job.”

  “I don’t envy me either,” Aaro grumbled, following the captain’s example and stretching his feet toward the warmth.

  “Why did you take it?”