The three bells striking the third deciday had just sounded when Taris the Green Ear finally spotted the party that the Züu were after. They were filing out of the dingy inn he was in charge of watching, the Rominian Pig. The brother could hardly believe it. The reward would be his!
He wedged himself into a dark corner and pretended to sleep, but kept an eye on the motley group. Four men and two women, among them a middle-aged Kaulienne and a mustached Ramgrith. There was no doubt that these were the ones he sought.
Taris wondered how he could have missed them. His watch hadn’t always been impeccable, sure, but it still seemed odd to him that he hadn’t seen any of the fugitives enter the inn. Doubly odd since they were loaded down like that with all of their luggage and traveling cookware. He would keep this observation to himself, of course. Darlane didn’t enjoy the unexplainable, and Taris the Green Ear wasn’t going to be the one to provoke him. He would just stick to the facts: He had spotted the fugitives; he should receive the reward he deserved.
His instructions were to follow them until he had an opportunity to slip off and report them to Darlane. Taris judged the present moment to be opportune enough. Rumors were going around that the group consisted of a bunch of Züu hunters. If these guys were capable of doing in the red killers, he certainly wasn’t about to cross swords with them alone.
It was through Taris that Darlane, the head of the Lorelien Guild, was notified less than a centiday later. Darlane went to the Small Palace to warn Zamerine himself, in hopes of winning over the favor, or at the very least the protection, of his zealous chief. The heirs weren’t within sight of the building, and their enemies were already waiting for them.
The judge listened to Darlane’s story with a distracted ear. It was a shame. He had almost hoped his adversaries would have made it more difficult.
“So it’s all written,” he declared. “These ignorant fugitives will have received Zuïa’s sentence before the apogee. Another page turned.”
“But what if they get on a boat?” the head of the Guild allowed himself to point out. “According to my source, they’re carrying luggage.”
“We’ve known that for a long time already,” Zamerine responded in a bored tone. “They’re going to board the Ambassador, headed toward Lineh; their tickets were paid for six days ago, no questions asked. They don’t have a chance,” he repeated. “They either board the ship and die, or show up here and die.”
Like the first time, the heirs had to divide into two groups. Grigán, Corenn, and Bowbaq would return to the Small Palace, while Yan, Rey, and Léti would wait for them at the boat… for departure as soon as the first group had finished their mission.
It was hard for them to leave each other. The same thoughts lingered in all their minds—perhaps this would be the end, perhaps they would never see each other again, perhaps one group would live while the others did not, perhaps this was the end for all of them. Grigán cut the moment short, which was turning from a “see you soon” into a series of long-winded good-byes. He pulled Corenn and Bowbaq after him, leaving the youngest members of the group and their share of baggage behind.
“I hope they don’t do anything stupid,” the warrior mumbled to himself. “They talk like they are better than hardened mercenaries, but they are as naïve as babies.”
Corenn smiled at his remark. Underneath his surly complaints, Grigán was full of care and thoughtfulness. He proved it more every day.
“And if you adopted one of them?” she suggested.
“What?”
“Yan is an orphan, you know. And Léti is as well, in a certain manner. After all, I am not really her aunt.”
“Reyan too,” Bowbaq added innocently.
“Well, now I’ve heard it all. To adopt the one we have all seen act so pretentious, so cynical, and who has no respect for anyone! I would prefer to kiss Zuïa.”
The warrior could only respond this way. The Mother understood him too well, and he was happy and irritated at the same time. The idea had already crossed his mind to start a family with Corenn and Léti… but he forbid himself from thinking about it. Those things weren’t for him. He didn’t have the right.
Unexpectedly, he noticed that Bowbaq was breathing heavily, almost suffocating as they crossed the market in Riders’ Square.
“Bowbaq? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” the giant responded, who, on the contrary, grew more and more pale. “It’s all these people. There are so many. No, I don’t feel very well, to be honest.”
“We are almost there,” Corenn said, grabbing his arm. “You can still…”
“Yes. Yes. It will be fine.”
Bowbaq cursed himself. For the first time he could be useful to the group, truly useful. Now wasn’t the time to be weak.
“You are scared of crowds,” Corenn remarked. “It’s all right. It will pass, but you should have told me.”
“I didn’t think there would be so many people,” the giant apologized, breathing hard. “It makes me feel dirty.”
“It’s no problem,” Grigán repeated to calm the giant. “We’re here.”
They waited a few moments in front of the palace, enough time for Bowbaq to gather himself. Luckily, he didn’t take long. The giant was already getting used to the nuisance of a crowd.
“Let’s go,” he decided, even though the color was just starting to return to his face. “I am going to help us. I am going to do it.”
They entered the raised porch covering the entrance to the Small Palace. The jelenis cleared out of the way and let them pass, and then let out their dogs’ chains, thus preventing anyone from entering… or leaving.
“We should have bought Raji’s donkey,” Rey managed to say, gasping for air under the weight of his double load. “That would have made this forced march… a… walk in the park.”
“Oh yeah, explaining the presence of a donkey in an inn, that would have been no trouble at all,” Yan mocked, still joking despite his fatigue.
“Hey, how about it, Mr. Magician, couldn’t you just make us all fly to the harbor?”
“I really wish that were possible.”
“Just me, then! I’ll wait for you there, I promise,” Rey said.
It was best not to respond. In an exchange of jokes, Rey always had the last word.
“Anyway, it shouldn’t be much farther, right?” Léti asked.
“Three streets past the one that goes downhill. Follow me!”
Yan and Léti followed Rey as he disappeared down a dark and narrow alley that looked exactly like the dozen others they’d already taken. As he saw it, there were lots of advantages to taking them through the narrowest streets. They took the shortest way possible, they had fewer chances of being spotted, and it also allowed him to show off his knowledge of the huge Lorelien city. But this alley was one too many.
A low door opened just behind Yan, and two men emerged, armed with dirks. Two more immediately appeared farther down the alley, blocking the only exit.
Léti felt her anger boil as Yan pushed her toward the center of the alley. He set down his pack and took a determined position between the young woman and the attackers.
Rey hadn’t moved an inch. He was staring at the two men standing in front of him with a grave look on his face.
We didn’t plan for this, thought Léti. They had envisioned plenty of other situations, for which Grigán had found just as many solutions, but this was unexpected.
“What do you want?” Yan asked, trying to keep a neutral tone. He wanted to avoid this confrontation at all costs.
“Ain’t tha’ a question, wha’ do we want?” one of the thieves piped up. “This here’s our stree’. You gotta pay the toll on ye’ goods.”
Léti drew her broadsword, realizing that Yan wasn’t even armed. For his part, Rey seemed overwhelmed by everything that was happening; he stood still, as if frozen by fear. They were going to lose this fight for sure…
“How much is the toll?” Yan asked, walking
within reach of the hustlers.
“All the goods,” another one answered, setting off a roar of laughter from his gang.
Suddenly, Rey burst into a madman’s howl. A real howl. He threw his pack on the ground, griped his rapier, and ran straight for the men, his eyes wild, and his tongue sticking out of his wide-open mouth.
The two would-be thieves took a step back, and then another step, each of them trying to position himself behind the other. Rey was no more than a few yards from them now with no sign of slowing his charge. They turned their backs and fled.
The actor chased after them and was soon out of view, although his companions could still hear his yelling. The two remaining crooks searched each other’s expressions, unsure of what to do.
“He’s coming back, you know,” Yan warned, pointing to the other end of the alley.
The two men didn’t have to hear it twice. They spun on their heels and ran off. When it was four against three, it was worth it, but two against a dangerous madman, and they lost interest.
Rey reappeared shortly after with a big smile on his face. Yan and Léti had already gathered up most of their packs.
“What did you do with them?” Yan asked as they broke into a run for the harbor.
“I let them go, of course. But I did wreck a stall to stay in character. It would be best if we didn’t hang around here.”
It wasn’t hard for Yan to imagine Rey in a rage, yelling and kicking crates of vegetables in the air. If only all of their problems could be solved like that, life would be much easier, but that wasn’t the case.
They still had no idea what was waiting for them at the harbor.
Grigán was an experienced traveler, to put it mildly. He adapted to almost any place and felt at home wherever he was. This was only his third visit to the Small Palace, but the marble walls, enormous staircases, and the ceilings decorated with paintings already seemed all too familiar to him.
It was different for Corenn, whose analytical mind took an interest in everything, even when observing something for the hundredth time. Being inside one of the most prestigious buildings in the Lorelien capital provided plenty for her insatiable mind to ponder over.
For Bowbaq, it was different still. The giant stood wide-eyed in front of the building’s massive dimensions; the palace was so large he had a hard time believing it was built by human hands. For a moment, he wondered whether it would be impolite to trudge his feet across the entryway’s immaculate floor. But seeing no hesitation from Grigán and Corenn, he followed after them, still trying to be as light-footed as possible. It was a futile measure, and his large size drew looks from all the jelenis… and their dogs.
The fact that the Loreliens allowed dogs inside such a beautiful building seemed equally impolite. Even though he had a profound respect for animals, he would have never considered letting Mir into his log cabin, let alone something as magnificent as this palace!
The drudge clerk at the registry must have recognized them because he was surprisingly efficient with the admission process. So efficient, in fact, that they were granted entry before the jelenis had confiscated their weapons. Like the first time, Grigán handed over the broadsword he wore at his waist.
“What do you need to keep the sheath for?” the skeptical Lorelien asked.
“It’s a collector’s item,” the warrior responded. “It cost me a fortune. I have no desire to see someone else reclaim it ‘by accident.’”
The guard nodded and let them through. It was very common for visitors of the palace to showcase their wealth.
“Well, here we are,” Corenn announced as they walked through the park.
She immediately began a search for the Züu, while Grigán took a count of the archers and jelenis patrolling above, as he had done the first time. Bowbaq observed the perfectly arranged plants with mixed feelings. In here, nature was treated like a slave. The result was beautiful, sure; however, he couldn’t decide whether such a practice was acceptable, again turning over the word impolite in his mind.
A plump man with shifty eyes approached them cautiously. Corenn was prepared to refuse a business offer, but it wasn’t what the man had in mind.
“Umm… the priests are waiting for you,” he announced without introducing himself. “Over there, behind that clump of trees.”
The man walked away without taking his eyes off them, and Grigán showed him the same distrust until he had left the garden. Whoever this man was, he feared the heirs. Or at least he didn’t want to get mixed up in what was in store for them…
Corenn obediently walked over to where the man had pointed, with Bowbaq following right behind. The giant’s heart was beating so hard he was certain that everyone could hear it.
Grigán caught up to them and advanced to the front of the line, his hand resting on his sword’s sheath, a reflex from a life on the run. The Züu weren’t naïve in choosing their spot, he noticed as they got closer. The trees completely sectioned off the view from one side. They were also right near the portico, which meant that by following the jelenis’ regular patrolling cadence, there would be brief, predictable periods when the garden was completely free from surveillance.
The warrior circled around the little grove without the slightest hesitation, proving his courage and resolve. He didn’t fear them. He only feared what they could do to his friends.
“You’ve come with reinforcements,” the older Zü pointed out as he sat comfortably on a stone seat, his eyes resting on Bowbaq. His statement was meant to be a joke.
“You too,” Grigán shot back, nodding toward the killer’s two accomplices.
One was the same hooded figure who led their first meeting a dékade before. He didn’t address them in the slightest, not even a head nod; his eyes stared forward, his jaw tense, and his hands crossed behind his back. His counterparts did the same.
Grigán wondered what they could be hiding behind their backs. The fact that they stood right behind their master didn’t reassure him either.
“You are Corenn of Kaul, aren’t you?” asked the Zü. “And Grigán Derkel of Griteh, and of course Bowbaq from the Bird clan. Where are the others?”
“I’m sure you’ll excuse me for not answering that,” Corenn responded, taking a seat across from him. “To whom do I owe the honor?”
“Judge Zamerine. Spiritual leader of the Lorelien messengers. Of which there are increasingly few, thanks to you,” he added.
Bowbaq had trouble believing it. This man was publically admitting he was a Zü! Not that he seemed too worried about giving it away, donning his red tunic and shaved head in the heart of Lorelia. The prevailing morals in most of the Upper Kingdoms were truly strange.
“It’s not our wish to kill your followers,” Corenn reminded him. “You know well. All of us here only have one thing in mind, and that’s to end this conflict.”
“That’s impossible. My subordinate has already told you. Even if you hadn’t done harm to the messengers, the sentence would still stand. It’s all the more true now that it’s a personal matter.”
“We would make a generous offering to the cult if you delayed our sentence. That’s the reason for this second meeting.”
“The Goddess is not just some magistrate who is slave to human laws. This mercy in disguise for which you are pleading is, of course, refused. Such is Zuïa’s judgment.”
Corenn hadn’t expected a victory, but she was disappointed with the swiftness of the result. Grigán stood restlessly by her side. The warrior signaled to her to back away from the killers. Once Bowbaq intervened, the meeting would likely break into a fight, and even the Lorelien guards’ precautions wouldn’t stop the Züu from attacking.
The Mother rehashed her arguments in her mind, but she found that they no longer had many options left in the face of Zamerine’s blatantly hostile display. She had to give Bowbaq the signal and leave the rest up to fate.
She held out a parchment to the Zü, who accepted it with revulsion.
“I per
sist in thinking that we can find grounds for compromise. Perhaps you could deliver this letter to… our enemy.”
The Zü unfolded the letter brashly. The parchment was blank. And then… Someone was infiltrating his mind! Bowbaq, the giant. He was rummaging through his memories, digging around, searching, studying everything Zamerine knew about the Accuser.
“Kill them!” he ordered to his men, closing his mind to this infuriating intrusion.
The two Züu stepped toward them with their hands in the air, empty after all. One jumped at Corenn, and the other at Grigán. The Mother’s adversary bared her a strange smile. A cold grin of steel.
The killers were equipped with razor-sharp metal jaws, which were surely poisoned. The Zü knocked Corenn onto her back and leaned his mouth toward her neck. The monstrous teeth were long and sharp, and Corenn couldn’t figure out how he had managed to keep them in his closed mouth. She noted this to herself subconsciously, as all of her energy was focused on keeping the Zü from biting her. The man was relentless, though, attacking her like a wolf would an injured prey, searching for any opportune inch of flesh Corenn might leave within his reach.
The weight of the killer’s body suddenly lightened. Something lifted him. The Zü stuck his useless tongue through the silver glint of teeth, unable to produce anything but groans, which further accentuated his resemblance to an animal.
Bowbaq. Bowbaq had just lifted the Zü with one hand by his neck, as he would have a cat.
The giant balled up his other hand and swung it right at his enemy’s face. The northerner was neither nice nor philosophical, his face flush with rage. He was angry. Very angry.
Grigán had knocked his enemy back with a kick right to the chest. Then his hand moved to his sheath. The Zü charged back only to impale himself on a thin blade a foot and a half long that the warrior had drawn from a secret inner sheath.
It had all happened very quickly. Grigán’s victim collapsed to the ground while the remaining Zü fell from Bowbaq’s grip. The assassin flailed on the ground as he tried to halt the blood gushing from his nose.
The Orphans' Promise Page 14