Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0)

by Mitchell Graham

  Duchess Elita's soldiers. One of the women, a plump blonde, smiled and nodded in her direction, but neither of the men even looked her way, for which she was grateful. Akin had told her the duchess's family was closely re­lated to King Malach and had ruled the Berne, Elgaria's most southern province, from Longreath Castle for gen­erations.

  The minstrel began to play another song, and heads turned in his direction. Lara was about to turn and watch when she felt a hand on her shoulder. One of the sailors, emboldened by drink and the company of his compan­ions, had taken it on himself to join her at her table. He was a dark-skinned man, with swarthy good looks and jet-black hair, closer to Akin's age than her own. He wore a gold earring in his left ear and tied his hair in a small ponytail at the back of his neck.

  "Hello, missy," he said with a smile. "Owen's the name. New in town?"

  Before she could say anything, Owen sat down unin­vited and put a hand on her forearm.

  "Yes, I am," Lara said, "and I don't believe we've been introduced." She started to pull her arm away but stopped when Owen didn't release his grip.

  "Introduced? Well... we can cure that straight away. Owen Welch at your service. And you would be?"

  "Waiting for a friend to return," she replied.

  "You mean that blond-haired fellow you came in with? Looks to me like he's shoved off and left you without a proper escort."

  "He should be back any moment," Lara said calmly.

  Owen glanced around the room with exaggerated af­fect. "Well... all I can say is, you don't capture a prize vessel and then abandon it. If you get my meaning."

  God, why me? she thought.

  "Look, I really think you should be going," Lara said.

  "Going? But I've only just got here. Besides, I'm just about worn-out. You've been running through my mind since you first came in." Owen flashed her a set of white teeth and a broad smile.

  "I'm sorry, but I am with a friend."

  Undeterred, Owen responded by rubbing her forearm and said, "Listen . . . why don't you shift flags to the next table and join my mates and me for a few drinks?"

  Seconds later the smile slowly faded from his face when he felt the sharp point from Lara's dagger pressed dangerously at the crotch of his breeches.

  "If you don't take your hand off me in the next ten sec­onds," she whispered, smiling back at him, "you and your friends are going to spend the rest of the evening dis­cussing your shortcomings."

  Owen opened his mouth to say something, but didn't. His eyes widened farther and he took in a sharp breath in through his nostrils as the pressure of Lara's dagger in­creased. His fingers immediately relaxed and he slowly got to his feet, backing away from her. He wasted no time in returning to his own table. When he sat down, his friends said something to him, but he just shook his head, grabbed one of their drinks, and finished it in one gulp.

  The minstrel was almost finished with his ballad of the travels of Prince Talbot on the Isle of Calderon by the time Akin returned. Lara slipped the dagger back into the sleeve of her dress and got up to join him.

  "Everything fine?" he said.

  "Simply wonderful," Lara replied, slipping her arm through his.

  19

  Elberton, the Nobody's Inn

  A HANDSOME-LOOKING WOMAN EMERGED FROM THE kitchen, noticed Akin and Lara standing there, and quickly came forward. She had long dark brown hair, which she wore in a braid over her shoulder. Lara guessed she was in her mid-forties. The woman's eyes were a clear hazel color. She was wearing a well-made vest of green suede that laced up the middle over a dress of dark purple, which showed off her slender figure well, though not obviously.

  "Please forgive me," she said, offering her hand to each of them. "I hardly know where my mind has been today." Her grip was firm and dry, with a promise of good strength behind it.

  "I'm Ceta Woodall, the owner. How may I help you?"

  "Akin Gibb of Ashford, and this is my cousin Lara. We would like to take rooms for the night, and perhaps din­ner before we retire."

  "Ashford? My goodness, but that's a long way off," she said, looking closely at Akin. "We don't get many visitors from there. Let me show you both to a table, and I'll have one of the girls bring you something right away—or would you rather see your rooms first?"

  "Well," Akin said, "the food certainly sounds—"

  "I've just been dreaming about a hot bath for almost a week," Lara cut in with a shy smile.

  Akin's mouth was still in the process of forming the balance of his sentence when he decided to close it.

  "Of course, you poor thing. I'll show you up right away." But then, noticing Akin's crestfallen look, she pat­ted his arm and added, "I'll send Effie along with your food, and some hot towels too."

  Mollified, he brightened and followed them toward a staircase at the back of the room. When they passed, Lara smiled sweetly at Owen, who quickly averted his eyes.

  "So you're from Ashford," the innkeeper said. "What brings you all the way to Elberton?"

  "We're on our way to Barcora to visit my sister. She's just had a baby," Lara answered. "Father wouldn't allow me to travel alone, so he asked cousin Akin to take me. My uncle and his three boys will be joining us here tomorrow." "Four more?" Ceta stopped and her brows came to­gether for a moment as she rapidly performed some men­tal calculations. "Yes ... I suppose we can accommodate them as well, if they won't mind sleeping double."

  "Oh, I'm sure they won't, they're a very close family," Lara replied.

  Akin glanced at her sideways but kept on walking. When they reached the top of the landing, the inn­keeper turned to her right and opened the second door.

  "This will be your room, Master Gibb. I trust you will find it comfortable. I'll send one of the men up with a tub and some hot water for you just as soon as I've settled your young cousin here .. . and the food too, of course," she added, before he could remind her again.

  "Oh . .. well, thank you. That will be fine," he said. "Good night."

  As soon as he closed the door, the women exchanged a quick smile and proceeded down the hallway.

  Lara's room was bigger than she thought it would be. It was certainly larger than Akin's, pleasantly decorated with white curtains on the windows and a chest of draw­ers. There was also a desk in the corner. A large scrumptious-looking copper tub with raised brass claw feet sat on the floor, in front of what looked to be a most comfortable bed. The window, with its small lead glass panes set in a diamond pattern, was a smaller version of the one she'd seen downstairs in the common room.

  Lara looked out and could see reflections of moonlight on the Roeselar, along with a portion of the docks Akin had mentioned. A number of tall masts rocked gently on the river's current, tied up for the night.

  "I'm afraid at this time of night all I can offer you is some soup, bread, and tea," the innkeeper apologized. "But the soup is quite good, if I do say so myself. I think we could also manage some apple pie."

  "Oh, that would be wonderful," Lara replied, realizing just how hungry she was.

  "Have you been traveling a long time, my dear?" she asked as Lara sat on the bed, trying it out.

  "Um-hmm, over a week," she answered, and was im­mediately sorry because she didn't know how far Ashford actually was from Elberton.

  "I see. Do you think your... cousin will want the same thing to eat?"

  There was something in Ceta Woodall's tone, a mix­ture of tact and intelligence, that caused Lara to look at her more closely. The other woman returned the look evenly.

  There was a long pause.

  "We're not really from Ashford," Lara finally replied. "And Akin isn't my cousin."

  The innkeeper's eyebrows rose but her smile remained.

  "I didn't think so, dear. In my business it pays to re­member faces, and if I'm not mistaken, Master Gibb was an apprentice at the silver guild several years ago. He hasn't changed all that much, a little taller and more ma­ture in the face, but the same person, I would say. If my mem
ory serves me correctly, he was from a small town ... oh, dear, what was that name?" She frowned, tapping her teeth with a finger.

  "Devondale," Lara said. "I'm very sorry we deceived you."

  "Devondale," the innkeeper repeated with a satisfied nod. "Quite all right. Actually, you didn't deceive me very much. But thank you anyway for saying it."

  "How did you know?" Lara asked, still embarrassed.

  "Oh, several things," Ceta Woodall said as she turned down the bed covers. "First, you don't look anything like you're related, and second, neither of you have a northern accent. Almost everyone from that area of the country does. It's quite noticeable really."

  "I am sorry," Lara repeated again. "It's just that—"

  "I'm quite sure you have very good reasons—particu­larly for traveling these roads at night. Whatever they are, your confidences are safe with me."

  "Yes, ma'am," Lara replied.

  "My late husband always told me that tavern owners have to be just like physicians where their patron's pri­vacy is concerned."

  "Oh," Lara said, hearing the word "late."

  "He died of the plague several years ago on a trip to Verano," Ceta explained, "and I've been running the inn ever since. When Effie comes up with the hot water and your dinner, I'll have her take your clothes and give them a good brushing, if you like. Now turn around and I'll help you undo those buttons. Do you have something else to change into?"

  "I have another dress," Lara said, turning around as in­structed while the innkeeper began to undo the buttons of her dress.

  A tap at the door caused Ceta to pause. "Come in," she called out.

  The door opened and a man about ten years older than Lara entered. She recognized him as the same person who had taken the horses when they arrived. He was carrying her pack in one hand and a large steaming pail of hot soapy water in the other.

  "Thank you, Will. You can put the clothes on the chest over there, please."

  The man nodded and set the pail down. He looked at Lara as he passed with glance that was scarcely less than obvious. After he placed the clothes on the dresser, he made a desultory sort of bow and withdrew, closing the door after him.

  The innkeeper watched him go and let out a sigh. "I

  may have made a mistake with that one. Watch yourself around him."

  In response to Lara's unasked question, she added, "At this time of year, good help is hard to find—you some­times have to take what washes up on shore. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll go see to your food, and I think we'll let one of the girls bring up the rest of your bathwater."

  Fifteen minutes later Lara settled back into the luxury of a hot bath, closed her eyes, and drifted as the tension began to leave her body. She never knew that a bath could feel so good. And she decided, right then and there, to buy a bathtub exactly like the one she was in when she had her own home.

  Both she and Ceta had spoken for a little while longer before the innkeeper left. She immediately liked the other woman. Ceta was smart, quick, and independent, with plain speaking qualities Lara admired. While they talked, she did feel the necessity of explaining to her that Akin was not her lover, though she didn't elaborate on the rea­sons they were traveling together and Ceta didn't press the point. Nevertheless, she wasn't entirely sure Ceta was convinced. For some reason, the idea that someone else might think she was old enough for a lover was . . . well, a bit odd to her. But at seventeen, she had already lost most of her adolescent features. And if the looks she re­ceived from Will, Owen, and the other men in the tavern weren't enough, a brief glance at her body while she lay soaking in the tub was sufficient to convince her that she was no longer a child.

  A half hour later Lara noticed that her toes and fingers were beginning to take on a pruney look. She climbed out of the bath and wrapped a large towel around her from the pile on the bed. Ceta was thoughtful enough to have put a hot brick between the ones Effie brought up. To Lara's mind there was nothing as luxurious as stepping from a bath into a warm towel.

  Effie was her own age and a regular chatterbox. Ceta had told her the girl was trustworthy but warned against sharing anything confidential. As a result, Lara effectively sidestepped Effie's questions with the same story she made up when they arrived. Unlike Ceta, however, Effie was far more direct, asking straight out if she and Akin were a couple. Lara assured her they were not— only relatives, which seemed to stem the inquisition. Effie also made a point to ask if Akin was married or promised to anyone, while she bustled around the room plumping up the pillows, collecting towels, and opening the window to let fresh air in.

  By far the most exciting news Lara provided was that four more men would be joining them in the morning, which only led to a further barrage of questions. How old were they? Were they cute? Did any of them like to dance? And ... oh yes, were any of them married? Thus satisfied, Effie bade her good night and left the room, ad­monishing her to lock the door.

  Lara sat at the desk, sipping her soup and looking out toward the docks. She was daydreaming, imagining what it would be like floating down the river on a boat, when she realized with a start that a man was standing in the shadows across the street, looking up into her room. From the clothes and long hair, she had no problem iden­tifying him. Aware that he was seen, Will stepped out of the shadows, waved, and continued down the street in the direction of the Roeselar. Lara reached across the desk and quickly pulled the curtains closed.

  The bed was generous and soft. It felt absolutely deli­cious when she slipped between the cool set of clean sheets. Once settled, Lara leaned over, blew out the can­dle, and closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

  But come it didn't.

  Almost immediately she began to worry about Mathew, Collin, Daniel, and Father Thomas. Fear for their safety gave her an empty queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. All at once she felt guilty and ashamed to be lying there in a nice bed while they were still out in the forest with who-knew-what. After tossing and turning for the next half hour, she gave up and got out of bed. She

  found wooden matches in a drawer and used them to light the candle.

  Lara slipped into her gray dress, gave a last look in the mirror to make sure that everything was in place and properly buttoned, then opened the door and walked down the hall to Akin's room. She tapped softly, but there was no response. She was about to give up, thinking he was aleep, when she heard the sound of a violin coming from the floor below.

  Lara was halfway down the stairs when she saw Akin, seated on a stool by the fireplace, playing his violin next to the minstrel, who accompanied him on a harp. There were fewer people than before, but they all sat there qui­etly listening to the sweet notes coming from the instru­ments. Ceta was at a table with a nice-looking gentleman, while Effie and another girl leaned against the kitchen door, their heads resting against the wooden frame. Akin's eyes were closed and he swayed back and forth ever so slightly while he played. Everyone applauded when the song ended, and he and the minstrel shook hands. Seeing Lara standing by the stairs, he motioned her over to a table near the wall. Ceta and her companion glanced up and smiled to her before returning to then-own conversation.

  "Hello, cousin." Akin grinned, taking a seat across from her.

  Lara noticed that he had shaved.

  He picked up on her glance and shrugged noncommit-tally. "I guess the bath wasn't such a bad idea after all," he said.

  "It does look nicer," she agreed. There was a pause be­fore she continued. "I just couldn't sleep—I tried, but it wasn't any use."

  "I couldn't either," he said. "If they're not here by first light, I'm going back out and look for them."

  "And I'm coming with you," Lara said.

  "No, you are not."

  "Akin..."

  "What you're going to do is to stay here and keep your word to Father Thomas. I'll do the looking. He would skin me alive if he found I let you go back out again."

  "But why do you get—"

  "No," he whispered f
iercely. "Absolutely not." His tone gave room for no argument.

  "Well, I don't think it's fair at all. Just because you're a man."

  Akin looked at her and his expression softened. "I'm as worried as you are, but I can't risk you going, Lara."

  He was about to say something else, but stopped abruptly, seeing her eyes fill with tears.

  "None of that now . .. none of that," he said gently, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing her eyes. "I spoke to the innkeeper—a nice lady, by the way. She told me there should be a ship going downriver in three or four days. The captain is a friend of hers, and she was agreeable to introducing us."

  Lara sniffed and nodded. "How long do you think it'll be to first light?" she eventually asked.

  Akin looked out the window before replying. "Five, six hours at most," he said. "You should try to get some sleep in the meantime."

  "I can't," she said.

  Akin was about to make the suggestion again, but held his tongue due to Effie's sudden appearance, asking if they wanted anything to drink. He didn't, but Lara re­quested a cup of hot tea.

  Effie nodded in acknowledgment but kept her eyes on Akin. "Your cousin didn't tell me you could play so beau­tifully. Gayle and I was listening at the kitchen. I just loved it."

  "Why, thank you," Akin said, looking up at her.

  "Wherever did you learn to play like that?"

  Lara noticed the wide eyes and slightly breathless speech, but bit her lip.

  "My father taught my brother and me when we were both little."

  "Was he a famous musician?" she asked, leaning over the table directly between Lara and him.

  "Musician? Why no ... he was a silversmith, as I am," Akin said, leaning backward a bit.

  "Really? That's wonderful. You must have very strong hands," she said, taking one of his hands and examining it.

  Lara couldn't see anything wonderful about it. In fact the only thing she could see at that moment was Effie's ample backside, which she was seriously considering giving a good kick to. Fortunately, they were both spared the experience when Ceta decided to stop by, most op­portunely, to inquire if their rooms were comfortable. Effie immediately straightened, curtsied, and hurried to the kitchen, but not before giving Akin a smile that held a good deal of promise.