Krea nodded. “Aye, but I still haven’t gone to relieve myself yet.”
“Well, wait until the horses are with me. Then you can go. Walk to the edge of the circle, leave your boots inside, and be careful not to let your boots touch your clothes. You didn’t get any on your pants, did you?”
“No.” Krea shook her head.
“You’re sure?”
“Well, if I did, we would be able to see it now, wouldn’t we? It’s not as if the stuff is discreet.”
“Fair enough.” Sorin’s expression took on a distant look as he walked away, and Krea knew he was calling the horses to him. She waited and listened, but when the heavy footfalls finally came, they were approaching from the opposite side of the cave.
“Smart horses,” she muttered. “Smarter than me.” In short order, Sorin’s yell told her that the horses were safely in his possession and she was free to take care of her business. With great reluctance, she stomped to the circle’s edge and finished unlacing her boots. Fortunately for her, she had always preferred to tuck her breeches into her boots. It was more to hide the tattered bottoms than a fashion concern, but in this case, it saved her from having to ride barefoot and naked.
When she finally managed to wiggle out of the last boot, using great care not to touch it with her hands, she stepped out onto the forest floor and yelped. Of course, the first thing stepped on had to be pieces of pinecone. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” she grumbled, padding out into the trees with considerably more caution. A few years ago, running through the woods on bare feet wouldn’t have been a concern. But her feet were boot soft now, and they objected to every tiny rock and brittle leaf that they encountered.
By the time Krea hobbled around the curtain of trees to where Sorin waited, both horses were tacked up and ready. Her toes were already freezing from walking through the dew-covered forest, and she didn’t relish the idea of stepping onto the cold iron of her stirrup. There was no avoiding it, though. Krea told herself she had been cold before and took a handful of Caldir’s mane. She hooked her foot into the iron and climbed on.
The stirrups felt huge and heavy dangling against her bare feet, and it was only then that she noticed that the bottoms weren’t smooth. They had small slits dug into them to provide traction for boots—boots she didn’t have.
“Are you ready?” Sorin asked.
Krea nodded.
“Okay, hold still.” Krea didn’t realize how cold her toes were until Sorin wrapped a piece of cloth and his warm hands around them. Her skin tingled where his stick fingers touched her, and she was sad to see them go when he was finished wrapping her feet in little cloth cocoons.
“Now, let’s get to Ryth.” With that, the caller stepped onto his horse with the grace of a cat and nudged him into the yawning forest. “It’s a good thing that pouch of yours is so heavy,” he said as Drindoc picked his way through the fallen limbs and underbrush.
“Why? And how do you know how heavy it is?” Krea suddenly wondered why she hadn’t slept with her treasure tucked under her head as she had every other night of their trip. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her.
Sorin laughed. “I know, because I looked, and I looked because you are now a change of clothes, a larger cloak, and a new pair of boots into this trip and you aren’t three weeks away from home. If this keeps up, that bag won’t get you to Roshirim, let alone Shaylith.”
She wanted to blame him for her troubles, but she couldn’t. The Proth had attacked her, not him, and it had been her lack of attention that had landed her in proth vomit.
“That is a rather large sum of money for a traveler to be carrying. Who did you lift it from?”
Krea’s head snapped up at his use of thieves’ slang. “A man,” she said casually.
“Aye. I figured that much out. What man?”
Krea shrugged. “I didn’t ask his name.”
“Of that I’m certain, but you know exactly who he was, where he was staying, and probably which pocket he kept his nose rag in. Men who carry that kind of money don’t let go of it easily. Now, who was he?”
“Why does it matter?”
“It matters because normal merchants or nobles, for that matter, don’t make it a practice to carry that much coin. Ryth is the sort of town where you would find a merchant of that wealth, not Trasdaak.” Sorin turned in his saddle to watch her. “Who was he?”
Under his scrutiny, Krea was hard-pressed not to divulge her secrets. It didn’t really matter if he knew. If the caller intended to turn her in to authorities, he would do it regardless of who her mark had been. He didn’t plan on turning her in, though. She was at least sure of that much. “His name was Lord Blaydon.”
“Blaydon.” Sorin repeated the name to himself. “Blaydon. I know that name. Why do I know that name?” Without warning, the caller spun his horse around and planted him in front of Caldir. “Lord Blaydon? Krea! Are you telling me that you stole that money from the Lady Regent’s brother?”
“If his name is Lord Blaydon.” As much as she would never admit it aloud, the caller’s shock was a huge boost to her ego. At least this was something she could do right. He may not approve of it, but it was something.
“Like you didn’t know.” A slow smile replaced Sorin’s shocked expression before he nudged his horse back into a walk. “You do realize that you stole the Regent Heir Lady Trintin’s travel money, don’t you?”
Krea couldn’t hide her smile. She hadn’t known what the money was to be used for, but she did know from whom she had taken it. “I’m sure she has more.”
“Oh, I’m sure she does too, but that’s not the point. You may have started a political earthquake.”
“Why?”
“Well, you see, the Crown Princess, Her Imperial Highness Princess Larea, is betrothed. We should be arriving in Shaylith just in time for the month of wedding celebrations. At first, I wasn’t certain that the rumor was true. The name of her betrothed has been held a secret for some time now. However, Blaydon's arrival confirmed the story.
“Since Trasdaak has no governor, it would be inappropriate for Lady Regent Marli to attend the festivities in Shaylith, so she intends to send her beautiful, if not bothersome, daughter in her stead. Clearly, Regent Heir Trintin cannot travel all the way to Shaylith without a suitable escort, so the Lady Regent asked her brother, who has been in ill-favor with the court for some time now, to attend to Lady Trintin’s travel needs. As is customary, Lord Blaydon was expected to pay for the travel expenses of his charge.”
Krea kicked her horse up beside Drindoc. The way Sorin tossed around titles fascinated her. And he said he wasn’t a noble…right! “Well, the way he acted, he must have plenty more where this bag came from.” She gave her bedroll a pat.
“Ah, but he doesn’t,” Sorin said with a shake of his finger. “There’s a reason Lord Blaydon is out of favor with the court. He’s an idiot. Many years ago, he was given a governorship over a small territory west of Dorish. He lost the title because of his incompetence. Escorting the very marriageable Lady Trintin to Shaylith could have been his chance to reestablish himself with the lower courts, if not with Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Raeyal.”
“So what does this money bag have to do with anything?”
“I told you. Lord Blaydon was to be responsible for Lady Trintin’s travel expenses. You stole that money, or a good part of it, anyway. He can’t replace it. Not without selling some possessions, and he doesn’t have that much time. The wedding celebrations will begin in a few weeks from now. They probably left a day or so after we did.”
Krea shrugged. “So? Let Lady Marli pay for it.”
“The Regent Heir of Trasdaak arrives in Shaylith using her mother’s money because her male relative is too poor to follow appropriate customs? That little fact will limit Lady Trintin’s possible betrothals considerably.” Sorin shook his head. “Although Trasdaak has its place in the Empire since it borders Tishar, it is not an overly desirable post. No doubt, L
ady Marli hoped to position her daughter closer to the Royal City through a favorable match with another family in good standing. There is even a possibility that the Lady Regent has her eye on Prince Northel, Her Imperial Majesty’s eldest son. This little problem of Blaydon's will probably keep either of those things from happening. It may even be the end of Blaydon. Lady Marli has carried that man about as far as she’s willing to carry him.”
“Well, if this bag of money meant so much to him, then why was he prancing all over the marketplace, flashing coin? If it was for a trip, why didn’t he leave it in the manor until he and Lady Trintin left for the Royal City?”
“As I said, the man’s an idiot.”
“No one has to know if he borrows money from his sister. This isn’t that much money. I mean, it’s a good amount, but it isn’t that much.” Krea felt a twinge of guilt at the magnitude of her offense. She hadn’t given her mark a second thought other than to tell herself that he didn’t deserve to be carrying around such a burden of money if he was going to flaunt it like a drunkard. Knowing Blaydon had more to lose than money gave her pause. Although, in truth, she would have stolen it regardless. That purse contained a lot of money.
Sorin waved away her suggestion. “The news will get to Shaylith. In fact, it will no doubt get there long before Blaydon does. The court holds no secrets.” At that, Sorin laughed. “The goddess has an evil sense of humor, does she not?”
Krea didn’t really know what to say to that. In truth, she didn’t even know the exact amount in the pouch she carried. She had just done what any good thief does and seized an opportunity when she saw it. “I would have been in serious trouble if I had been caught,” Krea said, suddenly realizing the extent of her folly in going back after the bag.
“What do mean? You did get caught.”
When Krea looked at him, she was relieved to see a playful smirk instead of the accusing glare she was expecting. “No, I didn’t.” She stopped herself. “Well, not by the captain, anyway.”
Sorin cocked his head expectantly.
“Okay, I would have if you hadn’t been there. I admit it. Do you feel better now?”
He just laughed and shook his head. “It’s just a good thing your captain didn’t meet my bluff and demand rodulin. I can say with absolute certainty that given what the Lady Marli stands to lose, she would not have been terribly objective.”
Krea whistled. “You’re not joking! That was closer than I thought. But that bag doesn’t hold that much money, Sorin. I mean, think about it. For a regent heir to go anywhere requires an armed escort of at least ten men.”
“More like fifteen, with so many traders on the routes. Maybe even twenty.”
“Okay, fifteen. She will have at least one personal servant and a chaperone from the temple with her, right?”
Sorin nodded. “And Lord Blaydon, along with one or two of his personal servants.”
“Well, that’s at least twenty people and their horses to provide for, and I can imagine that they will be taking the long way through Sra. That group wouldn’t be caught dead in the Nayli.”
“Actually, that group would be very dead in the Nayli, so you’re right. They’ll be going through Sra. What’s your point?”
Krea reached back and patted her bedroll again. “There is no way you can convince me that this bag has enough money in it to finance that trip.”
“No, no,” Sorin said, waving his hand through the air. “Blaydon isn’t responsible for funding everyone’s expenses, just Trintin’s.” When Krea shrugged her confusion, he continued. “You know, like her extra expenses. Things she needs along the way or decides she wants. Not food and shelter. The other things.”
“Are you telling me that this bag is spending money? Pocket money for that spoiled, privileged little…”
Sorin’s laugh cut her off. “That is what I’m telling you.”
Krea grinned. “That means that when I get to Ryth, I could treat myself like a pampered regent heir. I can buy anything I want, can’t I?”
“You can, but you won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Look at yourself,” Sorin said, waving his arm at her. “You are dressed in a stable boy’s clothing, you have no shoes, and a handed down cloak two years too small. And, you will be arriving with me. Just me. Where would you come by having money you can spend so frivolously?”
He had a point. If she pulled out that bag and started tossing it around, she would be no smarter than Lord Blaydon. She would have to be frugal in her purchases, which was business as usual for her. At least this time they would be purchases rather than acquisitions. And she still had the small purse she had snatched off the merc. “You’re right. I’ll mind myself. Who should I say that I am?”
“I’m still working on that. But it will be for nothing if we don’t get to Ryth.” Sorin clicked his horse into a trot. “Come on. Let’s get out of these trees so we can make up the time.”
Chapter 8 – Dane
Once they maneuvered out of the thickest of the trees, Sorin found a well-traveled deer path and set the horses at a slow canter to help cover ground. They stopped only once to eat, and other than that, they kept their pace as fast as the terrain would permit. A wide bend of the Morkeen River was just peeking through the trees when the forest path dropped them back out onto the main trade route.
“Perfect,” Sorin said, dropping his horse back into a walk and pulling on his gloves. She still wasn’t used to seeing the wood fingers, but she was sad to see them covered up again. “We couldn’t have done that better.”
Krea glanced up. The sun was just falling out of its crest. “We should have plenty of time to get our things and leave before sundown,” Krea said, giving her horse’s damp coat an affectionate pat.
Sorin shook his head. “No. We’ll be staying at least the night. Sra or Shaylith might have a cobbler or cordwainer with stock on hand, but Ryth isn’t that large. Your new boots will have to be made. Besides, these horses need to be fed up.”
As Sorin spoke, a small cart burdened with sacks and towing two oxen rounded the corner ahead. Sorin nodded politely to the farmer as he passed, but kept his focus on the road.
“Who are you going to say we are?” Krea asked once the cart was well behind them.
“I think I’ll pretend to be a bailiff escorting my troublesome daughter to her new position at my master’s manor in Dyrshem.”
The caller’s jabbing comment was lost in the preposterousness of his story. Krea couldn’t keep from laughing. “You must be joking,” she finally managed. “You? A peasant? You wouldn’t make it fifteen minutes.”
“I can make the talk,” Sorin assured her in the guttural slang of the field workers.
Krea checked to be sure he was serious and then sobered up enough to save his life. “No, Lord Sorin, you can’t. They will know you in an instant and your life will be in jeopardy. You couldn’t pass for a commoner if you were found dead in a pig trough.”
Sorin stared at her, a thin smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “A liege steward, then? On my way back to my master with my recently orphaned niece in tow?”
“Liege steward for a member of the royal family, maybe.” Krea let the idea run through her mind a few times. “Maybe,” she added again for extra emphasis.
At that, Sorin laughed. “Okay. How about a caller on his way back to the Royal City?”
She paused and frowned at him. “But that’s what you are.”
Her comment only made Sorin laugh again. She didn’t see the humor, but she was getting used to the man, so she waited him out. In due time, he turned back to her. “The truth is usually the best option. An effective lie is based on truth. We will tell the truth, but only the barest part of it. I’m sure you can manage that without trouble.” Sorin’s expression suddenly sobered, and once again he was the silent brooding man who left Trasdaak. “Only the barest truth, Krea. Do you understand me? Not a word about the proth. Not a word about anything that doesn’t have to be
said.”
Krea nodded.
“Good. And my title is Tal, not Lord. If you are traveling with me, you should know that.”
“What does that mean? It sure brought those merchants up short.”
“It means The Chosen. It is for callers. Are you ready?”
She nodded again. She didn’t like the somber wizard half as much as the mocking noble, but his moods weren’t hers to choose. Instead, she drank in their surroundings.
The fresh, musky scent of water hung on the air. The thick, lording oaks and elms had long since given way to tall, white-barked aspens and airy willows that dipped their heavy branches in homage to the river that dominated the landscape.
Serfs pushing handcarts and others towing herd animals passed, offering a cursory nod or polite greeting, but other than that, the road was curiously empty. Krea waited for the huge town to spring up before her, but she saw only other travelers until the wide road finally turned toward the massive waterway.
As they cleared a thicket of huge, lumbering cypresses, the wide blue-green waters of the Morkeen River finally came into full view. The river washed gently down the rocky brim in such quiet solitude that Krea found it nearly impossible to believe that the sweeping tide of water could possibly stretch so wide.
On the far bank, the cottages and mills that had to be Ryth stood like toy buildings made for dolls. She glanced over at Sorin in sheer panic. She hated rivers. They terrified her.
“I can’t swim,” she said in barely more than a whisper. “I can’t cross that. Why is the river so wide? It’s as far across as a wheat field. I can’t get across that.” She shook her head. “You don’t mean to go over there, do you?”
He laughed. “Even if you could swim, you couldn’t cross that, but aye, I do mean to go over there.” Sorin pointed them upriver and started out again. “Rivers can teach us a great many things. Look out at the water, Krea. What do you see?”
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 13