“We should bring Wyle with us,” she said.
Loren’s brows rose. “Why?”
“He is a smuggler,” said Annis. “Danfon will be in great turmoil, and the guards at its gates will be vigilant. We must enter the city with all possible discretion, and I do not doubt he can sneak us in without anyone seeing.”
“That seems wise,” said Loren, nodding slowly. “We will bring him, then, though I doubt he will enjoy it.”
Annis grinned. “I do not think he has enjoyed any part of his dealings with us yet. What is one more unpleasant duty?”
Loren smiled. “Thank you again, Annis. Our quest would be doomed without you.”
The girl waved a hand. “You would muddle through somehow. You always do. I only do my best to make things a bit easier.”
“And you do a marvelous job. Good night.”
They went to bed, Loren on the floor and Annis on the pallet next to Chet’s. But for a long while, Loren’s thoughts would give her no peace. She had wondered why her dreams had led her here. Now she had a guess. They had a smuggler now, who could help them enter Dorsea’s capital without being seen. That seemed a boon, but if the dreams were truly meant to help her, they would have led her to Danfon long ago, before Damaris carried out this coup.
Her hands tightened to fists. Chet’s misgivings about her dreams wormed their way into her mind. Yet she could not bring herself to ignore them as he wished. How could she, when they were the only help she had?
Back and forth her mind whirled as she lay on the room’s floor. When Gem and Uzo returned, she shut her eyes and pretended to sleep, but slumber came slow. At last, shortly before Uzo went to replace Shiun, Loren’s eyes closed.
THE NEXT MORNING, THEY FOUND Wyle no more excited about their proposition than they had expected. The merchant greeted them drowsily in a fine coat of blue with golden trim, but he walked around his apartment in bare feet. He had cleaned the place up somewhat during the night, and there were now several chairs upon which to sit. When Annis explained what had happened and what they guessed about Damaris’ role in the rebellion, he waved his hand in dismissal.
“I have learned of King Jun’s death already, of course, and furthermore I know who has succeeded him. The man’s name is Wojin, and he is Jun’s uncle. Was, I should say. And I had already guessed that Damaris might have played some small part, though I am glad, of course, to hear it corroborated by such a capable mind as the Yerrin girl’s. Ah, well. Our meeting has been a blessed one, and I have enjoyed every instant of it. Your departure aggrieves me, but I suppose it is fate’s cruel wont to force such bitter partings.”
Loren gave him a faint smile. “Then let your poetic heart rejoice, smuggler. We do not mean to part ways with you at all. I need someone to get me into Danfon, and that person must be well acquainted with secret ways and passages that the King’s law would not use. Who better for such a purpose than the great and honorable businessman, Wyle?”
Wyle tried to turn his expression into a smile, but it only became something of a grimace. “I might have guessed that would be your aim. But your words are truer than you know: I am great and honorable, but I am a businessman above all. You mean to end a rebellion. There is little profit in such a scheme, and therefore I decline to offer my further service.”
“Only the poorest of merchants can find no profit in a war,” said Annis. “Surely you can find some way to draw coin from a venture like ours.”
All humor left Wyle’s eyes. He leaned over his thick table, planting his hands flat upon it. “I enjoy my jibes with you, girl. But never insult me that way again. I am no warhawk.”
The sudden vehemence in his voice surprised Loren, and she felt ashamed without truly knowing why. Even Annis was taken aback for a moment, and Gem stared at Wyle with wide eyes.
“Our apologies,” said Loren carefully. “Indeed, I would not work with one who earned coin from the deaths of others. But we do need you, and our cause is honorable. We do not aim to join the war in Dorsea, but to end the far greater war across all of Underrealm. If you help us, you will be serving the cause of the High King herself. Can you not imagine that she would be grateful for such aid? How full might your coffers be after she expressed that gratitude?”
Wyle drew back for a moment, pinching his chin between two fingers. But then he shook his head. “My coffers are plenty full, and from dealings that are far less dangerous.”
“Less dangerous, but still beyond the King’s law,” said Loren. “I am the Nightblade. I serve the High King directly. Imagine it, Wyle. Imagine me in her council chamber, speaking to her of your bravery. Imagine her scrawling a writ upon parchment—a writ of amnesty for your past … shall we call them indiscretions?”
Annis stared at Loren in surprise, but only for a moment before recovering. “Think of it, Wyle,” she said. “A bank account full of the High King’s gold, and a paper that absolves you from past crimes. You could become an honest businessman at last, making far more coin than you do now, and never fearing a constable’s noose. Even my family would avoid you if you had the High King’s favor.”
Twice Wyle opened his mouth to answer, pointing his finger at them as if about to present a counter-point. Twice he closed his mouth again, looking off distantly as thoughts seemed to flit behind his eyes. In the end he tilted his head at them with a wide smile.
“I will admit you present an attractive offer, though you hide insults within it. I have always been an honest businessman. But in this, you have changed my mind. My heart sings at the opportunity to be of further service to Her Majesty.”
Loren sent Chet and the Mystics to fetch the last of the supplies they would need for the journey. When they had gone, Wyle brought out eleven lockboxes full of gold coins to pay for her magestones. Each box was made of iron and had a small latch at the bottom through which a lock could be placed. All the locks had the same key, which Loren took from Wyle and put in her coin purse. Each box held four rows of twenty-five gold weights each, and they were packed tightly with velvet so that the coins did not jingle when the boxes were moved. Annis insisted on opening all of the lockboxes to verify their count, and Wyle seemed to take that as a great insult.
“As though I am a swindler,” he complained. “As though I would have lived this long in my line of work if I had acquired a reputation of shortchanging my customers.”
Annis inspected the lockboxes, and then the pile of gold weights that would go directly into Loren’s coin purse. She pointed at the pile. “There are thirty-eight coins here where there should be forty.”
Wyle’s eyes darted to the pile. He picked it up and fingered through it before looking at Annis uneasily. “An honest mistake. My apologies.”
He put the pile down and pulled not two, but six extra coins from the purse at his belt.
“By way of amends,” he muttered.
“Most excellent,” said Annis, clapping her hands. “Let us store them for travel, then.”
Loren and Gem had stood silent through the whole exchange, gawking at the money before them. More than eleven hundreds of gold weights. Before leaving the Birchwood, Loren would have laughed at the thought of a single person owning that much wealth. Since then, of course, she had learned that some people had much more. But to see such riches laid out before her and know they were her own … she suddenly understood the gold-lust in the tales of Bracken, the old storyteller who came to her village in her youth. They closed the lockboxes, and Loren put six of them in Midnight’s saddlebags. The other five went into the bags of the horse that Gem and Annis shared.
They ate an early midday meal and rode from the city just before noon. Loren feared that with the news from last night, they might face extra scrutiny at the gate, but the guards waved them on.
“A good thing, that,” said Uzo, after they had passed well beyond earshot of the gate. “I do not think it will be wise to flash our Mystic badges any longer.”
“Why?” said Gem. “The Mystics have no quarrel wi
th Dorsea,” said Gem.
Uzo scoffed. “Do you think our order is free from the politics of the nine kingdoms? Every Mystic vows to serve no king but the High King—and now the Dorseans have declared the High King their enemy.”
Loren glanced over her shoulder. “What about the Mystics in Bertram itself?” she said. “Are they not in danger?”
Shiun and Uzo looked at each other uneasily, but this time it was Shiun who spoke. “I do not think so. Not so far from the capital. Not yet. Our holdings in Bertram are strong, and the Dorseans would be loath to assault them without a pressing reason. As long as the Mystics do not take overt action against Dorsea, they should be safe. In Danfon itself, things may be different.”
That thought remained with Loren for a long while. She knew the Mystics had a presence in almost every great city across the nine kingdoms—a castle here, a fortress there, sometimes in the heart of the population, sometimes in long-distant wilderness. But now the Mystics in Dorsea were cut off from the rest of their order—and now that she thought of it, so were the Mystics in Dulmun. For three months now, they had been isolated in a kingdom at war with the High King. If the Mystics here now faced a brittle peace, could such peace have lasted so long in the very heart of a treacherous nation?
Some referred to the Mystics as the Tenth Kingdom. Many in their ranks had held great power before donning the red cloak, and if unified that power would be no less than that of a true king. Yet Loren saw now that their power was scattered all across the nine lands. It would be near impossible to consolidate it in order to achieve any end, great or small. Sometimes she was not sure of her own feelings towards the Mystics. Some, like Jordel, served high ideals. Others, like Uzo and Shiun, were honorable enough soldiers, willing to follow orders and fight for the greater good. Loren had met others who were self-serving and hungry for power. But she did not relish the thought of small pockets of the red-cloaked warriors suddenly finding themselves isolated in rebellious kingdoms, there to wait until the king finally decided to eliminate them.
It was only a short ride from the gates of Bertram to the King’s road, and from there they pushed their horses as hard as they dared. They ate their supper in the saddle, only stopping once the sun was well below the horizon and its last light faded from the sky. The hard ride brought them to the beginning of the Moonslight Pass, the southern route that would take them through the mountains to Dorsea’s northeastern reaches.
The next morning they climbed into the Greatrocks themselves. As a section of the King’s road, the pass was well tended. The road was laid in stone, and in many places it went straight through the mountains themselves, where large clefts had been cut as if by a giant’s axe. But it was a steep climb even so, and in some places the road had no choice but to cut back and forth, following the contours of the land.
The mountains were beautiful in the last days of winter. The well-cleared road left the travelers a great deal of unused attention to study their mighty peaks and splendid valleys. It struck Loren how different this mountain range could be, at different points along its length. She had first seen the Greatrocks to the south, where they had ridden with Jordel. Those peaks were high, but they were somewhat gentle, and the summer sun had painted their grey cliffs and stones in hues of warm red. Then they had come to the Greatrocks in the north, searching for Damaris and the stronghold of Yewamba. There the mountains rose into the sky like knives, mighty and sheer, but still covered in green, for the jungle climbed even to their utmost heights. The range they rode through now was somewhere in the middle. Though the peaks had been tamed by human hands, they still stood proud and regal, and each was covered in snow like a robe of office. Indeed, when the sun bathed the slopes in amber at the beginning and ending of the day, Loren was reminded of the white and gold of the High King, and she wondered if this might be the place from which those colors had been drawn.
The day’s end found them in the town of Midgar, which meant ‘waystop’ in the ancient tongue of Dulmun, from the days when Renna Sunmane had conquered this land in the name of the first High King. It was an entirely appropriate name, for the town had been built for the sole purpose of being a place for travelers to rest as they rode the Moonslight Pass. There was a Mystic stronghold just outside the town, a little farther up the slope of the mountains, as though it had been placed there to oversee the town. Loren stared at it as they entered Midgar. The shape of the stronghold was all too familiar. They had seen one just like it in the southern Greatrocks. Jordel had told her that all ancient Mystic strongholds were alike, so much so that he would know the placement of every stone within it. It was still disconcerting to see the truth of his words.
They stopped at one of the town’s more modest inns. Midgar had several, and for a moment Loren had the wild thought of staying at the finest of them. She had a great deal of newfound coin, after all. But she doused the thought in an instant. She had riches, yes, but she would not hold them long if she spent them too freely. So she guided the party towards the meanest-looking inn, which was called the Jolly Rat, though Wyle protested mightily.
“I have visited Midgar before, and I can tell you the Jolly Rat is aptly named,” he said. “The rats are so jolly because they are well fed, and that is because the innkeeper lets them run freely through her kitchen and the guests’ rooms. Let us board at the Silver Boar instead. If they have the same cook as the last time I was here, you will never taste finer boiled carrots in all your life.”
“We stay at the Jolly Rat,” said Loren. “Though you may go and eat your supper at the Silver Boar if you wish, and pay for it as well.”
Wyle sniffed. “I am no beggar who must accept free meals, especially when they are served in such a place. I will indeed eat at the Silver Boar, and stop by the blue door afterwards into the bargain.”
Loren flushed. The blue door was known across the nine lands as the sign of a house of lovers. She had not thought there would be one here so far from any city. “What you do is your own business, as long as you use your own coin. But since I would rather not leave you alone to do it, take Shiun with you. You can buy her dinner as well.”
Wyle scowled. Shiun smirked at him, but then she shook her head at Loren. “If I may make a suggestion, Nightblade, send Uzo instead. He will be just as fine as a guard, and he would likely get some use out of the blue door, whereas I would not.”
Indeed, Uzo looked surprisingly eager. Loren nodded at once. “Of course. I am sorry I did not think of it already, Uzo, after your service in Bertram.”
Uzo ducked his head. “Do not trouble yourself, Nightblade. And thank you.”
Wyle’s expression had darkened still further at the prospect of paying for Uzo’s lover as well as his dinner. But the smuggler took one last dark look at the Jolly Rat and turned on his heel, beckoning Uzo to follow him. Uzo threw a wink over his shoulder and went. With a little smile, Loren watched them go before leading the others into the common room of the Jolly Rat. They quickly secured a room and stables and then bought dinner. Loren thought it looked a bit meager, but nowhere near so bad as Wyle had made it sound. Indeed, they had stayed in far worse places in their travels.
Gem spoke up as they settled into their seats. “Is it wise to let Wyle go off, do you think? If he puts his mind to it, he might yet evade Uzo.”
“He will not,” said Annis. “The prospect of the reward at the end of this journey will keep him close. Indeed, Loren, you offered him more than I would have. A royal pardon is not something easily obtained.”
Loren shrugged. “I am not wise in all the politics of the nine kingdoms. Yet it seems to me that whatever small mischief Wyle has gotten up to here in Dorsea, it pales in comparison to the threat of the Necromancer and the rebellion. If he can help us deliver Damaris, and even the kingdom of Dorsea, I do not doubt that Her Majesty will grant him a life as a honest merchant.”
“And if she does, she will have removed a smuggler who traffics in illegal goods,” said Shiun. “He may even begin to pa
y taxes on his dealings, furthering the king’s and the High King’s might. It is the wisest of generals who can defeat an enemy by turning them into a servant.”
Loren laughed at that, as did Gem. But Annis did not join them, and now stared morosely at her meal. Loren saw it and leaned over, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
“Annis?” she said. “Is something wrong?”
The girl’s head jerked up, and she shook her head too quickly. “Not at all,” she said. “My thoughts are far away. Forgive me.”
Loren frowned. She glanced briefly at the others around the table and then back to Annis. “Come. Let us take a walk together.”
“No, we … we should eat,” said Annis.
“Yet you have scarcely touched your food,” said Loren, pointing into the girl’s bowl. “Stand and walk before I am forced to drag you.”
They rose and left Chet, Gem, and Shiun to their meal, fetching their cloaks and stepping out into the wintry night. Annis gasped at the chill and rubbed her arms.
“Step lively,” said Loren. “You should get the blood flowing. It will loose whatever words you have bottled up inside yourself.”
“It is no great matter, truly,” said Annis. “I know I am only being foolish. Yet I still find myself shocked that Dorsea joined the rebellion. It is difficult to imagine a greater disaster for the High King, and it was orchestrated by my own mother.”
“Your mother’s misdeeds are not yours, and they never have been,” said Loren.
“I know that. Yet we are in pursuit of her, and I have bent all my thought towards finding her. I should have seen this coming.” Annis spoke faster and faster. “But then again, should I have been able to predict it? Why should I? My mother is much older and, it seems, infinitely more cunning. I have begun to think this is a fool’s errand. The two of us chasing her across the kingdom, I mean. It seems that we run off on one mad course of action after another. Yes, it seems like the right thing to do every time. But what if we are only making things worse? I—”
Yerrin: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 6) Page 9