Chapter 7
Dannel was bored. That often happened when he was given a less-than-challenging assignment, one that didn’t fully utilize his skills. Of course, the most exciting assignments tended to be the ones that he chose himself and that his employers knew little about, usually because they involved taking advantage of one employer to gain profit from another.
His last major assignment from Rampus, though, had been a good one. Lots of careful groundwork had gone into putting all the pieces together, starting months ahead of time. The end result was that a merchant in Almar who would otherwise never willingly have betrayed his kingdom had handed over vital information that was critical to Rampus’s plans.
Dannel smiled, recalling how good it had felt to see all his hard work pay off with the desired results. Rampus had been delighted and had paid him well for that one, too. Very well.
His current job, though, held much less challenge and promised much lower pay and probably only mild satisfaction, even if he did find out what the regent was hoping to learn. Still, even on a routine survey mission such as this one, there was always the potential for new contacts, new opportunities, new information that Dannel could use to his advantage. Besides, he was conducting a little survey of his own on the side. Why waste a trip doing only one thing at a time when you could serve your own interests in the process for free?
As his mule plodded along the dirt track between one foothill town and the next, Dannel gazed up and to his right at the lush but rugged slopes and distant snowy peaks. The Impassables were beautiful but aptly named. Travel into them beyond the foothills was difficult and dangerous, with no proper roads and plenty of wild beasts and wild people.
Perfect for a hideout. Dannel had two wilderness hideouts in Malorn already, one to the northeast and the other to the northwest, though neither involved the mountains. For a while now, he had been thinking that it would be a good idea to have a third option, a place he could retreat to in the south when he needed to lie low and escape the notice of someone he had used. A cave, perhaps, far enough into the mountains that no one would think to look for him there or be likely to find him if they did. But close enough to a town or village that he could hike down to buy supplies when necessary.
Dannel was on a schedule, though. Rampus expected him to return to Sazellia and report by a certain day, and there wasn’t much extra time for little side trips of his own. Oh, he had tried a few forays further into the mountains, always justifying them by visiting mining camps, in case the regent were to hear of it and wonder what he had been doing. And yes, he always asked what he was supposed to ask and nosed around for the information he was supposed to be seeking. But along the way he kept his eyes open for possible places for a hideout.
He hadn’t found any promising spots yet, though. Anything he was likely to find on this trip would probably be too close to civilization. What he really needed was to take a few weeks off and do some real exploring, but with the regent’s plans gaining momentum and Prince Korram still a wild card, Dannel knew he wasn’t likely to get any time off before the prince’s fateful eighteenth birthday.
Still, he could do some preliminary scouting. And what he had seen on this trip and his previous ones had convinced him that the southern or southeastern part of the kingdom offered the most possibilities. He would come back sometime when he wasn’t in a hurry and find his third perfect hideout, somewhere beyond the foothills but not too far into the actual mountains.
It was just past noon when Dannel rode up to Nilvey, a small hillside settlement straddling an icy creek. He was hungry; dried meat and biscuits were stashed in his saddlebags, but who wanted to eat travel rations when you could buy a real meal? Nilvey, he recalled from his last visit, boasted one small tavern, featuring decent food served in modest portions but better-than-average home-brewed ale. The tavern would be a good place to ask around for what he needed to know.
He tied the mule to the branch of a tree nearby – you can tell it’s a small town when the tavern doesn’t even have a hitching bar – and left the animal to graze. Unfastening the saddlebags, he brought them in with him. Theft in broad daylight was rarely a problem in such a small town, but Dannel hadn’t gotten this far in life by being careless.
“Good day,” he greeted the tavern keeper courteously, his voice just loud enough to make sure the locals around the tables all heard him. “I’d like some ale and a plate of whatever you’re serving for lunch, along with some water in a bucket for my mule out there.”
“Right away, stranger. Take a seat.” Then the man looked at him more closely, noticing the palace servant’s uniform he had once again chosen to wear for this mission. “Wait a moment. You’re that fellow who came by last month, ain’t you? The messenger from the palace in Sazellia?”
“That’s right. My name’s Dannel.” Dannel accepted the cup the man handed him and sat down in an empty spot at one of the two long tables. He nodded politely to the townsfolk, whose conversations had stopped when he had entered the room.
“Nice to see you all,” he greeted them. “Any news of Prince Korram since the last time I stopped by?”
Their eyes lit up, and nearly all of them began talking at once. He’s been here? Dannel was surprised, considering how far Nilvey was off the route the prince was supposed to have taken. Of course, there was no particular reason Korram should have followed his servant’s directions. But Rampus’s hope was that the prince, who had never explored the Impassables before, would be glad of a guide and trust the route he suggested.
The regent had planted his agents in or near every town and village where he thought the prince might stop, ready to make sure Korram never returned. Dannel’s job was to keep an eye on the less likely areas, but this was the first time he had received any word of the prince. To the best of his knowledge, Korram had actually not been seen at all since he had left for the mountains.
Pretending only mild interest, Dannel let the townsfolk sort out the details of their story while he started in on the roast fish and turnips the tavern keeper set in front of him. It seemed that Korram had made an appearance in Nilvey just six days earlier – two separate appearances in the same day, actually. The first time he had been dressed like one of the Mountain Folk and accompanied by a group of them, and no one had realized who he was. The second time he had come alone, introduced himself, and made an inspiring speech about how the two groups of Malornians could and should get along. Apparently he was now on his way to meet with Mountain Folk leaders and convince them to start treating regular Malornians better, too.
Dannel listened to the details while he ate his lunch, occasionally interrupting with a clarifying question to make sure he had all the relevant information, taking mental notes all the while. It was obvious that these people thought their news was very exciting; and in a small town where nothing much ever happened, the prince’s speech was probably the big event of the year. But in reality, there was little enough to report that Rampus didn’t already know, except the exact date and location of Korram’s appearance. To recruit an army of Mountain Folk, obviously Korram would have to convince them to trust him, so the part about urging everyone to get along was no surprise. The only other part Rampus really needed to be told was that the prince apparently had no actual army yet and that no one knew exactly which way he had gone or when he expected to return home. Which also meant that, considering it had been six days, there wasn’t much point in trying to track him down now. That was probably for the best, though, since Dannel had not yet decided whether it would benefit him more to have the prince alive or dead.
Well, it was a piece of news, anyway, which was more than he had been able to bring back to the palace the last time. At least now they knew for certain that Korram had not died in the wilderness yet.
Dannel strolled through the town and questioned a few more people about the events of that day, ending up at the general store. The manager was only too glad to tell him about the prince’s second visit, though he
avoided the topic of the first. Dannel chuckled inwardly, guessing that the man had been less than respectful as he assumed Prince Korram was one of the Mountain Folk, and was probably hoping he wouldn’t be called to account for it.
“Did his royal highness or anyone with him leave a message for me to take back to the palace?” Dannel inquired finally.
“Oh, yes. He said to tell the regent that things are going well so far, and to let his mother and sister know that he’s all right and that he’s thinking of them.”
“That’s all? No written letter?”
“No, just that.” The man chuckled. “He was sharing the Mountain Folk’s supplies, and they don’t carry parchment around with them, though I would have given him some if he’d asked.”
Curious. Korram had brought a servant with him: one who grew up in the foothills and knew how to survive there. In reality, of course, the man – Trayven was his name – had been sent along to keep an eye on Korram and lead him to the areas where they were most likely to encounter Rampus’s assassins. Trayven knew nothing of the plot against the prince’s life; Rampus didn’t trust him to keep the secret. But in every town or village they passed through, even if no violence occurred, Trayven was supposed to leave a written message about the prince’s doings for someone to deliver to the palace, or for Dannel to pick up if it was on his route.
So why didn’t that servant leave a message? And why didn’t anyone here even mention seeing someone else with the prince?
Returning to his mule, Dannel started back down the road up which he had come. He would spend the night in Daveen, the nearest large town. Clouds were starting to build above the mountains, and he didn’t fancy camping out in the open tonight in what could easily become a torrential downpour.
But a few hours later, shafts of sunshine were still squeezing through darkening clouds as Dannel rode into town. Unlike in Nilvey, no one here gave him a second glance. Daveen was a large town and served as a base for many hunters, trappers, and miners preparing to set off into the Impassables or returning for fresh supplies or medical care. No one thought anything of the presence of one more stranger, which Dannel appreciated. It was almost always preferable not to be noticed.
His mule’s hooves clattered over the cobblestones as he guided it down the main street toward his favorite inn some distance away. As always, he glanced around as he rode, curious to see if anything of note was going on or if he could discover anything useful. But it was not until he dismounted beside the Traveler’s Haven that anything of interest caught his eye.
The building next door to the inn was a large gold office, where miners could come to have their ore tested and weighed and exchanged for money. An armed guard stood on duty outside the gold office’s door, not an uncommon sight in busy towns. But the guard was relaxed, chatting and showing off his sword to a little crowd that had gathered. What caught Dannel’s attention were the colorful jewels winking in the light of the afternoon sun from the sword’s hilt.
Gold was a common enough sight in these parts, but jewels? Dannel was curious. He tied the mule to the hitching bar outside the inn and dismounted. Stretching, he paced back and forth as though he had been riding a long time and wanted to stretch his legs, which he did. Finally he wandered idly over, feigning disinterest.
“It has perfect balance, too,” the guard was saying, “and the weight is just right.” His audience stepped back as he brandished the sword, striking at the air, twirling the blade in a fancy figure 8.
“Beautiful workmanship,” one of his friends agreed, reaching over to test the edge of the blade with his thumb when the guard held it out again for their inspection.
“The best I’ve seen,” added another. “You were lucky to get it for that price yesterday.”
“That’s a fine-looking sword you’ve got,” remarked Dannel, edging his way into the group. “I couldn’t help noticing it from a distance. Are the jewels real?”
“They better be, after what I paid,” the man replied. “Fellow who sold it to me swore they were.”
“I used to work for a jeweler when I was younger,” Dannel told him. “Mind if I take a look?”
The guard shrugged and handed over the weapon, and Dannel clasped his hand around the hilt, twirling the blade a little himself, noting that the weight and the feel of it really were perfect. It was just as good as his own sword, which was purposely plain and unadorned but the finest quality weapon Malorn’s craftsmen could produce. He brought the hilt up to eye level and shifted his hold on it to examine the glittering gems. Though the jeweler story was a lie, he had made it his business to study valuables of all sorts, and these certainly did appear real. He recognized rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and sapphires, tastefully set in a diagonal swirling pattern across the silver handgrip.
But what were these scratches and little pock marks? Dannel peered closely and saw that several of the gems – the largest ones, judging by the size of the holes and their position in the design – had apparently been pried out. Curious.
“I know there’s jewels missing,” the man put in almost apologetically, noticing his scrutiny, “but he sold it to me cheaper because of that. Think I’ll take it to a silversmith and have him smooth over the spots. I’ve been saving my whole life for a sword like this, and even with a few less sparkles, it’s still a weapon fit for a nobleman!”
Indeed it is. But where is the nobleman who owned it first? Dannel turned it over and examined the base of the blade where it met the hilt, smiling inwardly as his suspicions were confirmed. There, imprinted in the steel, were the tiny decorative letters SRF: Sazellian Royal Forge. This sword had been crafted in the smithy just down the street from the palace, exactly like his own.
“A fine piece of workmanship,” he acknowledged, handing it back. “And the gems are definitely real. I’ve always wished I could have a sword like this myself. May I ask where you bought it?”
“I got it off a man in the local market,” the guard explained. “He was a traveler; said he’d come across the remains of a caravan that had been attacked and plundered by bandits, but somehow they missed a few things, including this.”
One of his companions laughed. “How could anyone miss a sword like this? Fellow probably stole it off some rich type over in Sazellia.”
And couldn’t find anyone to pay him what it was worth, so he sold off some of the jewels separately to make the sword more affordable, Dannel added silently. Or perhaps the nobleman himself fell upon hard times and sold his own weapon to get some quick money.
“Maybe.” The sword’s new owner shrugged. “That’s not my concern; I paid for it fair and square. But if the man was a robber, he was an awful strange one. Nothing else he was selling was the kind of thing a person would be likely to pinch along with a sword. The rest was all outdoor supplies: tents, fishing gear, a hatchet, and the like. All good quality, but nothing near as valuable as this.”
A suspicion began to grow in Dannel’s mind. Hadn’t the store manager at Nilvey said that Korram had been sharing the Mountain Folk’s supplies?
“Do you think the man who sold you the sword would still be at the market now?” Dannel wondered aloud.
“I doubt it. I think he probably sold everything he had yesterday, considering the crowd around his table when I was there. You could check, though.” Pointing, the guard described how to get to the market. Dannel thanked him, fetched his mule, and trotted off in the direction indicated.
The market turned out to be a long row of shops interspersed with temporary stalls and tables of goods, stretching for about fifty yards along both sides of a narrow road. Since it was getting toward evening, many of the shops were already closed and locked. Some of the remaining merchants were starting to gather up their wares as Dannel made his way down the road. He stopped to ask several people if they knew where a traveler had been seen selling outdoor supplies and a sword yesterday, and was eventually directed to a shop about three quarters of the way down the street.
The
shopkeeper, his establishment featuring an assortment of new and used mining equipment, nodded in response to Dannel’s question. “I have a couple of tables I set out front if there’s someone who wants to rent them for the day. There’s often travelers who bring goods from other parts of the kingdom and want a temporary spot to sell their wares. The man with the sword was here yesterday, but he left about noon after he’d sold out.”
“He’s an old friend of mine, but I haven’t seen him in years, and I just learned he was in the area,” Dannel told the shopkeeper earnestly. “Do you happen to know where he went when he left?”
“Well, he asked me if I knew a place that bought and sold jewels, and I told him about Glamor and Glitz down the street. I guess no one who came by the table was willing to pay as much as he wanted for them, though he did sell that fancy sword and everything else.”
“Did he say anything more? Whether he was going to leave town or stay the night?”
“Not that I heard.”
Dannel thanked the man and proceeded down the street until he found a shop whose sign spelled out the words “Glamor and Glitz” with painted strings of jewels. The owner was just pulling out a key to lock the door as Dannel dismounted out front.
“If you want to buy something, you’ll have to be quick,” the man warned. “I’m just closing for the evening. Want to get home before that storm hits.”
“I’ll be quick,” Dannel assured him. “I’m looking to buy some individual gems. Could you show me what you have?” It wouldn’t be wise to say he was looking for someone who had come here selling gems yesterday. That might imply that the shopkeeper had received stolen goods, which would probably make him deny the whole encounter.
“Well, I mostly make and sell gold jewelry,” the man told him. “But if it’s plain gems you want, I do have a few. For the right price, I might be willing to part with some.” He led the way back into his little shop, unlatched and opened a shuttered window to let in more light, and pulled out a locked metal box from behind a counter. Fishing in his pocket for the key, he unlocked it, pulled out a much smaller one, and unlocked that with a different key.
Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3) Page 12