Chapter 17
Pelya chewed on her braid while thinking about what to do next. It was cool in Healing Hall, but cotton sleepwear kept her comfortable. Everything was quiet in the early hours of the morning, with the exception of occasional coughs or moans. She had fallen asleep after Grinkin escorted her back. She and her father had slept through the next day and night, waking only for meals.
Now she was well rested and itching to do something. The problem was that she didn’t have any more information. As quietly as possible, she got out of bed. The movement was enough to wake her father. “Pelya? Is everything alright?”
With a sigh, she sat on the chair between their beds. “I don’t know. Something bad happened to Aphry and the others. I just know it.” She put the braid back into her mouth.
“I’m sorry I’ve been asleep so much. Were you able to find anything? Who did you take?” Frath sat up in the bed and stretched some of the ache out of his muscles, groaning in the process.
“Master Blavoci’s personal troops were guarding the tent. They told Uncle Clutz that the actors had sold it and left town. Florsy and Grinkin said they’d come by and talk to me once they learned more.” Pelya looked innocently at the ceiling when Frath narrowed his eyes at the mention of the three Guardsmen. “I never noticed that the chandeliers in here were wrought iron. I like them.”
“You know I don’t like you hanging out with them. They’re . . .” Frath rubbed his face and massaged his brow.
“They’re perfect gentlemen around me, Daddy. You just don’t understand them.”
“I understand them fine.” Frath waved the matter off. “How are you? Are you doing alright?” He studied her.
“I’m just worried. Other than that, I’m fine.” She studied him in return. “The important question is, how are you?” Pelya moved to the edge of his bed.
He tested out his ribs by twisting each way. “Still a little sore, but much better. They take good care of us.”
The knowledge that he was better was all she needed to leap into a hug. Pelya held onto his neck for dear life while he wrapped his powerful arms around her. She was completely safe for a moment, no matter how terrible the world was.
Pelya sat next to him on the bed and rested her head against his side while he put an arm securely around her shoulders. “I expected them to come back yesterday, so I’m worried.”
“If you’re talking about those three vulgar meatheads who have language better suited to a chamber pot, they did come looking for you yesterday,” Master Irmin said, coming up to the bed from a short distance away. His hearing was excellent considering Pelya didn’t think she had been speaking loudly. “I sent them away because you needed rest just as much as your father. You were having nightmares, so I slipped a few ingredients in your tea yesterday that helped you sleep and calmed your mind.” He came to Frath’s side of the bed and looked them over.
“Nightmares?” Frath challenged. “You didn’t tell me you had nightmares.”
Pelya shrugged and looked around Healing Hall. “I never noticed that the columns have carvings of trees and animals in them.”
“I believe she’s avoiding the question,” Master Irmin said to Frath. “Your daughter came in and fell asleep the other night. She tossed and turned and even yelled out once about not killing someone.” Pelya intently studied the image of a deer in one column. She held onto her braid with both hands as though hoping it would keep her from falling. Master Irmin spoke again, his normal reassuring voice filled with condemnation. “I guess that’s just the sort of thing that happens when you raise a child in an environment that worships cold iron and blood-soaked death.”
Frath and Pelya glared at the healer with teeth bared and anger covering their faces. Master Irmin stepped back and stumbled into the next bed, so powerful was the expression mirrored by father and daughter. The man got back on his feet and literally ran out of the hall.
Neither said anything as Frath wrapped Pelya up against his chest. They sat that way for half an hour before an apprentice healer came by with oatmeal and honey for early risers to eat. Pelya moved back to the chair and they both ate while lost in their own thoughts.
It bothered her more than she ever admitted whenever anyone criticized her father for raising her in the barracks and there were people who didn’t like her. He did his best and she tried not to make him look bad, knowing he took even the slightest criticism personally. It was ridiculous that Master Irmin judged her just because of a nightmare.
“What was the nightmare about?” Frath asked her gently.
“It’s not important.” She shrugged and focused on the oatmeal. It wasn’t as fascinating as the columns or chandeliers. When she looked up, he was still waiting for an answer. “I keep seeing that man die over and over. I see the other ones die too and then Uncle Bobble is there and blood is coming out of his mouth when he tries to talk to me.” She ducked her head into her chest, trying to hide from the memory.
“He was right. I should have found another place to raise you.”
“No!” Pelya yelled, standing and turning toward him. “You’ve been the best father ever and I’ll not have you listen to him or any of the others.”
“Others?” Frath asked with tension in his jaw. “Who else has insulted you?”
“It’s not like that,” Pelya responded in frustration. “You get mad when you think people hurt me, but they’re hurting you instead. I hate it when you feel bad.”
“I . . . didn’t realize. I try my best to protect you from all that.” He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his own oatmeal.
Pelya sat next to him on the bed again. “Daddy, I’m not a little girl anymore. I know people are stupid and dangerous . . . and everyone in the world thinks bad thoughts about me and probably wants to feed me to carnivorous fairies.” She got the chuckle she wanted from him. “I just don’t want you to feel bad.”
He looked at her and then back at the oatmeal, spreading the last of it around the bottom. “I like thinking of you as a little girl. I remember when you used to fit in one arm.”
“I know, Daddy, but I have to grow up.”
“No you don’t. In fact, I insist that you don’t.” He grinned at her and decisively set the bowl on the small nightstand on the other side of his bed.
Pelya stuck her tongue out at him and then struggled happily as he tickled her half to death, much to the irritation of miserable patients and humorless healers.
“Aren’t you two supposed to be resting?” Weaponmaster Coodmur said as he walked up with another officer. “Don’t get up,” he said when Pelya and Frath were about to stand at attention.
“Actually, this is an excellent development. It means I can get my best sergeant back to work.” Captain Alice Zephan was Frath’s commanding officer. Her eyes were steely grey and her brown hair was gathered in a ponytail. She worked under the weaponmaster, training recruits on the streets of Dralin after they had gone through rigorous physical training and studies of city law. Frath took units into advanced training through some of the more dangerous districts.
“Have you been released?” Gilron asked.
“No Sir,” Frath replied.
“Well, here comes Master Irmin now.” An apprentice was hurriedly escorting the irritated man. Pelya knew that patients weren’t to be disturbed, even by commanding officers. Captain Zephan wouldn’t have dared enter without the weaponmaster’s presence. As it was, she took a step back behind him. Healers had absolute authority in the hall and it was foolish to upset them.
“What is this? Disturbing my patients? I’ll not have it.” Master Irmin positioned himself in front of the weaponmaster and put his hands on hips.
“Are you attempting to intimidate me, Master Irmin?” Gilron asked with a smile on his face that didn’t reach his voice. The healer’s arms dropped to his sides and he took a step back. The weaponmaster said, “I have the utmost respect for those who mend the wounds people like me create. I do not have respect for self-
righteous pimples on a power trip and you’ll do well to remember that.”
Master Irmin backed away another step. “Yes, Commander. My apologies.”
“Not at all.” The weaponmaster clasped him on the shoulder. “I’m here for Pelya, but wanted to talk to her father about matters as well. How is he anyway?”
“Oh . . . well, he’s healing nicely,” Master Irmin said.
“He’s a difficult patient, isn’t he?” Gilron said with a wink.
“Hey!” Frath protested.
“Well, I don’t know . . .” Master Irmin said uncomfortably.
“Would you like to get rid of him? I’ll take them both off your hands.” Gilron squeezed the man’s shoulder. “Obviously it’s your decision, but I like to be helpful.”
“Uh . . .” Master Irmin didn’t know what to say or how to react. The weaponmaster was smiling, but most men wet their pants when the Commander smiled at them that way. “I can release him, but he’s not ready for duty. He’ll need to recondition his body and take it slowly for those ribs to finish healing.”
“Fine, fine. We’ll give him a week,” the Commander said. Captain Zephan looked nervous at the way the weaponmaster was ‘suggesting’ things to the healer. Gilron nodded at Frath and Pelya. “You two get dressed. We’ll start with some light stretches.”
“He should have four weeks of recovery,” Master Irmin insisted, putting his left hand back on a hip and waggling the index finger of his right at the commander just as an old woman would warn rowdy kids to calm down. Pelya dashed to change behind a screen while Frath grabbed his clothes and went behind another.
“Four weeks?!” Gilron asked incredulously. “He fell down some stairs, just ask him. It doesn’t take four weeks to recover from a tumble down some stairs.” There was a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips as he looked at Frath.
“Would you please keep your voice down?” Irmin said in disgust. “There are people trying to recover.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. I don’t care. Just get him out of here and take yourself with him.” The apprentice followed him as Irmin stalked off, muttering to himself the entire way.
“Let’s get out of here before he changes his mind,” Gilron said to the captain. He grabbed Frath’s sword belt and personal effects and helped him finish getting ready. The chain shirt was left off.
“Yes sir.” Captain Zephan grabbed Pelya’s sword belt and personal effects to help her get ready. In a few minutes, they were outside Healing Hall, walking down one of the many corridors to a garden not far away. Dralin had gardens and parks everywhere one could be stuffed and that included the Guard District. The tranquility of the parks in a city filled with chaos made them attractive to everyone and perhaps vital to the sanity of its citizens.
“We have a problem,” Captain Zephan said as they sat at a stone table with benches near a fountain. There was no one near enough to overhear them unless one counted insects buzzing around flowers just opening their petals to the early dawn light. “Yesterday morning a man who works for Master Blavoci came looking for Pelya.”
Pelya’s heart skipped a beat and she clasped her hands in her lap. Frath put his hand on the hilt of his sword and made as if to rise and hunt down the man right then. Gilron held up a hand. “Sit down and listen.” Frath remained sitting, but his hand never left the hilt.
The Captain pushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. “Commander Coodmur filled me in on everything that happened with you the other night, Pelya. I’m very proud of your actions.” She smiled for a moment and then became serious. “The man’s name is Samael Thanzin. He’s in charge of Blavoci’s interests in Dralin and is powerful in his own right.” Worry slipped into her low, clear voice.
“Blavoci doesn’t live in Dralin,” Gilron interjected. “He has a large estate along the eastern coast of Brindlyn. His influence extends from there all the way up to northwestern kingdoms and he trades by ship and land. He’s more powerful outside Dralin than in the city.”
“There are more powerful merchants within Dralin, but Thanzin has been gaining power for him in the last twenty years or so.” Captain Zephan brushed the disobedient hair behind her ear again. “They are also slavers, which isn’t completely illegal in Dralin or the country of Altordan, but it is considered a disgraceful trade.”
“Worse than disgraceful,” Frath said in disgust. He had ranted about slavery and the abuse people leveled against each other numerous times in the past. They were all familiar with his position on the matter.
The captain acknowledged the statement and went on. “Thanzin demanded to see Pelya and was brought to me since I’m your commanding officer,” she told Frath. “He said that Pelya and her friend Ebudae had stolen property from him and killed guards.”
“I did not! I stole nothing and didn’t kill his guards,” Pelya insisted in outrage.
“Weasels like Blavoci and Thanzin consider slaves property,” the weaponmaster explained. “When you freed those people, you ‘stole’ from them by their definition.”
“In any case, Master Thanzin wants compensation for the slaves and the guards. He also wants Pelya publicly punished,” Captain Zephan said with a miserable expression on her face.
Frath didn’t remain seated that time. His sword flew out of its sheath and he looked for something to kill. Pelya didn’t do anything but sit there, paralyzed by the dread that weakened her body.
“Would you sit down, you idiot!” Gilron barked. “There’s no one here to attack.”
Frath looked at him suspiciously and then looked around the park in case the weaponmaster was wrong. He had the good sense to blush as he resheathed the sword and sat.
“I explained that his conditions would never be met and sent him away,” Captain Zephan said in irritation. “He said that even the vaunted Dralin City Guard wouldn’t be able to protect Pelya.”
“I’m trying to decide how to best clarify to him that: yes the vaunted Dralin City Guard can and will protect our most cherished member. Violence would be preferable,” the weaponmaster said with a fierce grin and fiery determination in his eyes. Pelya felt a small burst of hope.
“I agree with violence,” Frath replied enthusiastically.
“That’s not an option,” the captain said. Gilron raised an eyebrow at her, so she pointed a finger in his face and spoke as though she were chastising a child. “No. Bad Commander. No violence for you.”
Pelya giggled in spite of herself, joined by the commander’s chuckle.
“There you are, Pelya!” They turned to see Florsy, Grinkin and Clutz coming toward them with Florsy being the speaker. The three of them stopped and saluted when they saw the officers at the table. “Uh . . . Sorry. We didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“What are you three miscreants doing here?” Gilron asked. Pelya knew the commander enjoyed the occasional drink with them sometimes, but didn’t make it a public fact. She also knew that Uncle Gilron occasionally had them check up on her to make sure she was safe.
“We uh . . .” Florsy looked at the other two for help, but none was forthcoming.
“I asked them to help me find out what happened to the Carnies that were with me,” Pelya explained.
“And when was this?” Captain Zephan asked. She drummed her fingers on the table, expecting an immediate answer.
Pelya took a deep breath. “It was the other night. Daddy was sleeping and I went with them to Carnival. The tent was being guarded and the guards told Uncle Clutz that my friends had sold it to Master Blavoci. Uncle Grinkin took me back to Healing Hall and then they were going to try to get more information for me.”
Captain Zephan listened carefully. “Have you discovered anything?”
Clutz usually let the other two do the talking in most things, but neither Florsy nor Grinkin handled officers very well, so he relayed what they had discovered. “Blavoci’s men recaptured the actor Pelya and her friends rescued. They also took the man’s sister Aphry and her husband Glav and forced them to
sign over their tent and stage.”
“So instead of rescuing them, we made everything worse,” Pelya said morosely.
“It seems that way, lass,” Clutz said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “But you need to understand that you did rescue him. That made things better. Blavoci’s men . . . unrescued them and made things worse.”
“Is unrescue a word?” Grinkin asked Florsy.
“I’m pretty sure it is. Remember, Clutz is the brains of the group,” Florsy responded.
“Oh yeah, I keep forgetting that part,” Grinkin replied.
Clutz rolled his eyes, causing Pelya to giggle. He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry to tell you this, lass, but Lizor the muscleman was murdered.”
“No.” Tears of loss and sorrow came to Pelya’s eyes. “No. I liked him. Please, Uncle Clutz. He didn’t die . . .”
“I’m very sorry, but he did.” Clutz squeezed again then released the shoulder as Frath drew her in and held her.
“Is there any evidence that leads to Blavoci’s men?” Captain Zephan asked.
“No. It was . . . I better not go into details, but there was nothing we could use.” Pelya didn’t see Clutz gesture at her or the others nod in solemn agreement.
Clutz continued. “There was another member of the troupe named Juggles.”
Pelya sat up at that and wiped her eyes. “Ebudae liked him and he helped us open the slave cages before running off with the others. Tell me he wasn’t killed,” she pleaded.
“Not at first,” Clutz said. He furrowed his brow while explaining as though confused about the events. “We learned that he informed on his friends and on the two of you to Blavoci’s men.” He pointed at Pelya, who frowned at the news. “Then the next morning, his body was found by a friend of his and he had a single, precise wound through his chest.”
“You make that sound like an assassination,” Gilron suggested.
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