"Why are you so upset?” Brother Klee asked, his voice dropping to a calm that prickled the hair on Kalsan's neck. The leader blanched. “Were you planning to ambush us along the way, with your cart so conveniently hidden? Are you angry because your plan was found out?"
"We wished to speak with you this morning,” Jultar continued, stepping closer, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “When we found you had left so early and with such quiet care, our suspicions were aroused. Can you blame us?"
"We are here. What is it you wish to say?” the man responded stiffly after a long silence.
"Boy.” Jultar turned, beckoning for Drixus to come forward. “Kalsan has told me your accusation and what he found. Speak."
"I accuse these men of attacking the party of Lady Faxinor as she journeyed home from Snowy Mount. I accuse them of raping and murdering her servants and kidnapping her. My proof lies in the presence of her wagon and horses. All bear the signet of Lord Edrix Faxinor."
"Signet?” The bandit leader laughed but it was a choking, sickly sound. “What signet? Look at the wagon. See how dirty and broken down it is. How could it be a noble lady's wagon?"
"The dirt is recent. If we washed it, we would find good wood underneath.” Kalsan stepped forward. “The signet is deeply cut into the wood underneath the wagon in three places. The mark is part of the horses’ shoes."
The leader spun, lashing out with his fist so it filled Kalsan's vision. He ducked and swung at the man. But he was gone, rolling under the wagon to escape. Brenden and Marfil darted to the other side of the wagon before the ruffian could scramble to his feet. They caught and lifted him by his arms, suspending him off the ground between them. His men tried to break and run. Swords and drawn bows met them. Two pitched headfirst into the dirt, an arrow in the calf of one, a crossbow bolt in the thigh of the other.
"Running indicates guilt, wouldn't you say, Brother Klee?” Jultar wiped his hands against the sides of his shirt, turning in a leisurely fashion to the holy man.
"Indeed. Careful questioning would be in order.” Brother Klee nodded. “I want to know the whereabouts of Lady Arriena and her maidservant, Glynnys."
"We never saw them,” the leader rasped. He grunted, baring his teeth as the two men holding his arms shook him.
"Witnesses saw them in your company, fixing that wheel,” Drixus said, pointing. “It was at the marker along the Soshan Trail, showing where the village of Hesteros the Sword Bearer used to be.” He stepped closer to the man, nose wrinkling. Kalsan grinned, knowing the boy smelled the stink of fear. “Where are they?"
"I don't—” He stopped as Drixus whipped a knife from his belt and pressed it against his throat. He stared into the boy's eyes and went white as a corpse. “Morstontown. Waiting ransom."
"Morstontown is south of here, less than a day's ride,” Jultar said, voice soft, smiling. “You just left them there? They won't expect you for several weeks, perhaps?” His smile faded as the bandit leader nodded, still staring at Drixus.
At Jultar's signal, the men released their captive. He fell to his knees with another grunt and a moan. Rubbing his shoulders, he struggled to sit up. New fear gripped him as Brother Klee approached, drawing his sword. Before the man could retreat, the tip of the blade rested at his throat.
"Friend, there is more information we need. What were your orders in the attack on the inn? Who hired you?” He kept his voice light, almost genial.
"No one,” another man in the group shouted, angry pride in his voice. “We work for no man!"
"Why did you take the innkeeper and his wife with you, and then kill them and take back their share of the payment?” Brother Klee continued, the sword never wavering.
"Everybody died except the lady and her screaming maid,” the leader mumbled, never taking his eyes off the sword.
"That's a lie.” Drixus dug in the pouch at his belt. “I found the bodies of the innkeeper and his wife the next day along the road to Snowy Mount. Who would take dead bodies with them? They showed no sign of struggle, cut down by friends. I found this coin under their bodies.” He held out a gold coin, and the bandit leader's eyes widened. “You were in too much of a hurry to count the coins, weren't you?"
"No innkeeper would have gold coins like that. Even the rich pay in coppers and silver tenths when traveling through country like this,” Jultar observed. He joined Brother Klee before the kneeling bandit. The sword began to flick idly back and forth across the man's chest, moving aside his ragged shirt without cutting anything.
"We were paid by a scholarly man,” the cowed bandit blurted. “Tall. Red hair. Long nose like a carrot. He had two bags of gold coins and gave us one when we agreed to do it. He told us when Lady Arriena was ransomed home and the deaths of the dark-haired maidens confirmed, we would get the other bag."
"Dark-haired?” Drixus’ voice broke. “You had orders to kill all the maidens with dark hair?” Tears touched his eyes, startling Kalsan. “Were you told how many traveled with the lady?"
"Two maids, one blonde, the other dark. Two grooms—they were to die as well. A child with red hair. And the lady's dark-haired daughter. We were told to be careful of her, as she could handle a sword."
"Were you ordered to torture them as well?” the boy grated, his voice ready to break.
"Drixus, go to your horse,” Brother Klee ordered, grasping the boy's shoulder when he would have shaken the fallen bandit. He met the boy's eyes, compassion and a stern light fighting down any protest. Nodding, Drixus stumbled out of the clearing. Kalsan followed.
The boy wrapped his arms around the pommel of Grennel's saddle, hiding his face against the warm leather. Through the trees, Kalsan heard the rumble of Brother Klee's and Jultar's voices. He touched the boy's shoulder and instantly faced a knife. Tears made Drixus’ cheeks glisten in the morning light.
"Peace!” Kalsan stepped back, hands up. He tried to smile. Drixus stared for a few seconds, then blushed.
"Sorry,” he muttered. He looked at the knife a long moment, then re-sheathed it.
"It's all right. You were there, weren't you? You saw the raid and you couldn't do anything about it."
"I had Alysyn to take care of—the lady's youngest daughter. She's only four. When I got back to the inn, everyone was gone. I had to make sure she was safe before I could do anything!"
"So, where is she now?"
"At Snowy Mount. I had to come look for Lady Arriena before I could be sure it was safe to send Alysyn home."
"You were going to rescue her all by yourself?” Kalsan whistled. He grinned, liking the determination filling the boy, even if the plan was foolhardy.
"With Brother Klee's help, of course.” Drixus sputtered a chuckle. He leaned back against his stallion and wiped at his eyes and cheeks. His breath caught in a gasp. “Kalsan, I know who is responsible. I suspected before, but now I know."
"Who is the man who hired them?” Brother Klee asked as he and Jultar joined them by the horses.
"His seneschal. I've been to his home often. I know the seneschal too well.” He took a deep breath, trying to smile. “He tried to poison the heir. He failed, so his seneschal hired mercenaries to wipe out the traveling party. With the fire and the confusion in the middle of the night, it would look like an accident that the heir had been killed. Especially if she tried to protect her mother and sister."
"Who?” Kalsan asked.
"Maxil of Faxinor, Lord Edrix's younger brother. He wanted m—my lady, the heir to marry his son. He probably planned to kill her after birthing her heir, making Feril regent.” Drixus trembled, though his voice was strangely calm.
"But he didn't know you would be at the inn, as a witness,” Jultar said.
"No, he didn't. He never did know what to do with me.” Drixus took a deep breath. “What do we do with them?"
"What else?” Brother Klee said, smiling softly. “I have a friend in Maskin's Forge, between here and Morstontown. One of the king's judges. He can hold our prisoners while we go on to Mor
stontown and rescue Lady Arriena."
"Truly?” Drixus whispered. His eyes glowed. For a moment, Kalsan thought the boy would throw his arms around Brother Klee and kiss him.
His stomach dropped, creating a hollow sensation in his middle as a new thought came to him.
What if—no, it couldn't be. Kalsan mentally slapped himself for such wild imagining. He hadn't had enough sleep, that was all. Just because Drixus moved with grace and looked delicate because of his long illness was no reason to think...
"Let's get going,” Kalsan said, and stepped over to mount Fala. “I want to sleep in a real bed tonight."
The others laughed, including Drixus. His heart skipped a beat as the image of his dream maiden covered the boy's face.
What is wrong with me? Kalsan wondered. He forced himself to think of the name of the tavern girl in Morstontown who gave such sweet kisses. That was the cure for his strange thoughts.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen
"YOU LOOK LIKE someone just cut your braids,” Brenden said as Kalsan returned to the small table they shared with Andrixine.
"Women,” the young man muttered. He gave them a lopsided grin and slung himself into his chair.
Around them, the noise of a busy tavern late in the afternoon increased. Andrixine contemplated her friend for another moment, decided he would not speak his problem yet and looked around. Everyone wore their holiday best. Brightly colored vests and skirts, snowy shirts and embroidered knife sheaths.
"I know I haven't lost track of time, so it can't be a holy day,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the happy, noisy crowd. Andrixine delighted in using the gesture. Her mother never permitted her brothers to use it at the table.
"Some sort of local festival, then,” Brenden said. His grin widened, and he leaned closer to Kalsan. “So? What's with Lerissa? Did this one demand marriage?"
"Worse.” Kalsan took a sip from the tankard the three shared and sat back. “What's taking our masters so long?"
"If it's festival, the outlying farmers are in town too. Which means inn rooms or even a stable corner are all at premium.” He thumped the table. “Spill, lad!"
"Brenden, if he's having sweetheart trouble, maybe he doesn't want to talk about it,” Andrixine said. She shrugged and tried to fight down a queasy feeling.
Kalsan, it seemed, had made sweethearts in nearly every village they passed through on their outward journey to Sendorland. Coming back along the same route, he had been visiting the girls and renewing acquaintances. Or trying to. There seemed to be some trouble, and from idle comments the others made, the trouble seemed to be all on Kalsan's side. Andrixine didn't like the feelings such talk gave her. Kalsan spent less time courting in each village they came to, and she had been oddly pleased. Now, it looked like he had been waiting for a specific maiden—and the maiden had betrayed him. Andrixine didn't understand her feelings, part sympathy, part disappointment, part nasty delight.
"It's two years since we passed through,” the older man said, shaking his head and grinning. He took a long swallow from the tankard and set it down with a thump. “You didn't leave her with a baby, did you?"
"Bren, you know I wouldn't—I'm not like that. A few kisses in the dark, and that's where I stop. I may not be Oathbound like you, but I do know what's right and wrong."
"Sorry, lad,” the older man said, his grin fading. “I do know you better than that.” He waited until Kalsan nodded, accepting the apology. The twinkle returned to his eyes. “So, what is it?"
Kalsan's face flushed. “She's married."
"Poor Kalsan. A broken heart."
"No, it's something else,” Andrixine said, listening to the sensitivity the sword taught her. She met Kalsan's gaze until her friend relaxed a little. He nodded.
"She was very ... happy to see me. Hugged me, led me over to a dark corner to talk. I didn't see her marriage band until it slid from her sleeve.” Kalsan took a deep breath. His voice shook a little, and Andrixine knew they were coming to the seat of the problem. “She wanted to go sparking. I saw the band and asked. She admitted she was married and three months gone with child—then went right on talking about meeting me."
"That bothers you.” The strength of the relief she felt surprised her.
"She took vows.” His voice dropped to a hissing whisper. “It's one thing to go sparking with a girl who isn't promised. It's another to help her break her vows. I won't."
"Some wouldn't hesitate,” Brenden said.
"I'm not one of them.” Kalsan took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I might marry. I've had dreams...” He shook his head. “How can I ask my wife to stay faithful if I helped another man's wife break her vows?"
"You look like you're having a philosophical discussion,” Brother Klee said, reaching their table.
"Have you been able to find rooms, Brother?” Brenden asked, standing.
"A rumor of rooms. The inn of the Hawk & Bells has several rooms, saved for merchants who won't arrive. The tavern keeper has given us a token to persuade the innkeeper, his brother-in-law, to give them to us. If someone else does not persuade him first. Come, we must be going."
Andrixine made sure she walked with Kalsan as they left the crowded tavern. He gave her a lopsided smile.
"Are you sure you're all right?” she asked as quietly as the noisy conditions allowed.
"Now I am. Maybe I just needed to talk it out.” He clapped his hand on her shoulder. “You looked a little surprised."
"I've heard you were rather ... free with your courting,” she admitted.
"I wasn't so careful two years ago, but Master Jultar has taught me much since we last came through here. I might never be Oathbound, but that's no reason to act without honor, is it?"
Andrixine shook her head, smiling a little. They stepped outside and found their horses. She could spare little thought now for anything but maneuvering through the crowds.
The noise in the central square of Morstontown grew deafening, ringing and echoing off buildings and cobblestones. Andrixine wished she could press her hands over her ears, but she needed both on the reins to guide Grennel through the open spaces that appeared and disappeared in an unpredictable rhythm among the milling crowd. The stallion was steady, only twitching his ears in protest, but she couldn't be sure he would remain so. If revelers came too close to his hooves, perhaps lunged at him as they lost their footing, she had to be able to control him.
Jultar and Brother Klee led the way, almost out of sight around the roof of the town well. Brenden and two others rode in a knot ten feet from Andrixine and Kalsan. Their other companions were nearly to the far edge of the square.
"Once we cross the square, it will be better,” Kalsan shouted, though he was so close their knees brushed. He rolled his eyes in mock agony. Andrixine laughed.
She glanced to her right, sensing a gap about to open and hoping to turn Grennel and get through before another barrier of sweetmeat and trinket vendors formed. A dark-bearded man in leathers pushed into the gap one step ahead of her. He smirked at her as she checked Grennel. Andrixine stared into his face.
A long scar ran from his temple, down to his jaw and along it. She knew that scar—twisted in a filthy grin as he got down on his knees to violate Cedes.
Andrixine reached for her sword even as the man frowned and stared at her. She urged Grennel closer, though a sweetmeat vendor clutched at her stirrup and begged her to look at the wares on his tray. The rapist fled, pushing through the crowd. Mounted, Andrixine couldn't follow without trampling people.
"Drixus?” Kalsan leaned closer. “What is it?"
"It's one of them.” She stood in her stirrups and tried to see over the milling crowd. In just two seconds of distraction, she had lost the man.
"What are you doing?” he blurted when she tried to wheel Grennel to move through a gap that didn't exist. Kalsan reached for her arm.
Andrixine had her knife out, slashi
ng at him before she could think. She stared at his white face, the hard line of his mouth, the shock in his eyes. Her hand trembled. She pricked her thigh as she slid the knife into its sheath.
"Nephew?” Brother Klee somehow managed to get through the crowd without hurting anyone. Andrixine wondered if the sword could help her do that. “What is it?"
"The one who killed Cedes, he—” She lost the words and could only point helplessly through the crowd.
Slowly he nodded, staring into her eyes. The puzzled lines around eyes and forehead smoothed. She felt some reassurance—but why did they sit still when they should be chasing the man?
"Come. We're almost to the inn.” He took the reins from her hands and quelled her protest with a stern look.
Andrixine shuddered at the thought of what she had almost done. Kalsan was her friend. The thought of hurting him made her feel sick. She hunched her shoulders and concentrated on Grennel's mane as Brother Klee led her through the crowds to the inn. She knew she should scan the crowds for the other men who might lead her to her mother's prison. They were so close! She closed her eyes, feeling hollow with strain when she spotted the banner marking the inn of the Hawk & Bells.
"Wine for the boy,” Jultar ordered, standing at the doorway of the inn as she and Brother Klee rode up.
"I'm all right,” she protested, embarrassment cutting through the emotions tumbling inside her.
"No, you are not.” Brother Klee dismounted and handed Grennel's reins back to her. “You've had a shock."
"Shock, nothing!” Andrixine took the reins, tempted for a moment to turn the stallion and give chase. The scholar's stern look quelled that idea. Legs shaking, she dismounted.
"What was it?” Kalsan demanded as they moved into the inn's main room.
In surprising contrast to the town square only one street away, the interior of the inn was dark, cool and relatively deserted. Andrixine supposed everyone was outside enjoying the festival.
Brother Klee pushed her down into the nearest chair, pulled out the chair opposite her and sat. He glanced over his shoulder at the few other occupants of the room. The people talked loudly, thumping tankards on their tables for service.
Heir of Fain [Faxinor Chronicles #1] Page 12