Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1)

by Melonie Purcell

  The torbadyn and the Walkilni? Krea hadn’t heard of that. She knew about the torbadyn’s movement out of the Dakel Forest, but she had no idea they had moved down as far as Sorl. “You saw them when you were in Sorl?” Krea asked. “You actually saw the torbadyn?”

  “Aye.” The merchant’s face grew dark. “They cloak themselves in the skin of men, but you can see their gnarled and twisted insides when you look right at them, when you look for their heart and find only hatred. They be evil. They smell evil. They sound evil. You’ll know a torbadyn when you see one, child, if you go looking for their soul.”

  Krea shuddered. She didn’t want to look for their soul or any other part of the torbadyn. She just wanted to go back to Trasdaak and talk Onin into letting her join him when he headed out on his next run. She wanted to be normal and not have to wonder when the proth were going to show up again, or if she was going to turn into a dragon in the middle of the marketplace. “That’s why you have a guard? To watch for the torbadyn?”

  He laughed. “No. That young man is just earning his betrothed a wedding gown by working here nights. You normally wouldn’t have found him here with the shop opened.”

  “If you wouldn’t find me rude, good merchant, why are you not in Shaylith? I’m sure your skill would fetch you a better living there. If nothing else, until after the wedding.”

  “Oh no,” the merchant said, dropping his voice. His expression grew serious. “If gold was lying on the streets of Shaylith, I wouldn’t step boot in that city, and you shouldn’t either, if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Why?” Not that she wanted to go in the first place, but his warning concerned her.

  His small eyes swept the shop and Krea mirrored his actions. What she was looking for, she couldn’t guess, but it seemed the smart thing to do.

  “The torbadyn have moved in,” he said, his words hissing out through clenched teeth. “Some say they’ve taken the castle. Can’t say that it’s true, but rumors aren’t born of air. One thing’s for sure, it’s just a matter of time. The callers and their kyrni are too few to help us. The torbadyn’s been trickling in from every direction, and the Royal City has done nothing to stop them. Why? And who is the princess marrying, anyhow? Why is it a secret?” The merchant straightened and smoothed his beard. “Can’t say the entire Empire isn’t already infiltrated, truth be told.”

  “Do you think so, really?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said. Rumors follow the river down from the Royal City. Do with them what you will. So, do we have an agreement?”

  Krea shoved the thought of torbadyn away and focused on the dickering. She rubbed the soft wool cloak to hide her fingers as she ticked off the cost of the garments and then, without looking up, made her counter. “I’ll give you seventeen shol for the lot, but switching this for the oil-skin cloak there on the shelf.”

  “Seventeen will barely cover the cost of my materials,” the merchant said, but he didn’t put the cloak away. He should have, Krea mused.

  “But your material is wasted if you don’t find a buyer,” she countered. “And what chance have you of another traveler just the right size coming through again? And I am willing to bet the noble who ordered this in the first place didn’t get his deposit back.”

  It was the barest movement, but Krea saw the merchant’s lip twitch as he worked to hide his smirk. “Ah. You’re a skilled buyer,” the man said, slowly folding the cloak. “I will come down to eighteen and two, but no lower.”

  Krea knew this game. He was adding the two dalman just so she could have the last word as the buyer. Eighteen was his lowest price, and she said as much. The merchant nodded and stuck out his arm to bind their contract.

  “Did you want to leave a deposit and pay the rest when you pick up your goods on the morrow?” the merchant asked, already waving over a drudge.

  “There’s no need for that. Better that I pay you all I owe. I see no reason to hold my coin and risk a thief when I know you’re good for your word.”

  The man smiled. He slapped Krea on the shoulder and started ushering her toward the front lobby. “Well, coming from you, I take that as a fine compliment. A fine compliment indeed.”

  In the entry, Krea found Sorin chatting with the guard, which bothered her for no reason other than the fact that she hated guards, and Dane sitting suspiciously still, sucking on the piece of candy he had won from her. A little sad, she pulled out her money pouch and did what Onin had told her never to do. She poured the contents out on the table. She didn’t think it mattered anyhow. Almost all of it would go to the merchant. Let him see how little she had left. Maybe he would throw in a belt or something.

  With painstaking care, she counted out her funds and slid all but one shol and two dalman over to the merchant. It was more money than she had ever had in her life, and she was spending it all on what she could probably steal if she just had a little more time and no eagle-eyed Sorin to contend with. All the same, it did feel good to be legal for a change, and she hoped the royal guard was watching.

  “So you have enough stockings, then?” the merchant asked, pocketing the coin.

  Krea blinked. “What?”

  “Stockings,” the merchant repeated. “You have stockings to match your new clothes? You won’t want to go into the Royal City in clean court clothing and dirty, torn stockings.”

  She couldn’t believe it. He had been planning this all along. After an eternal silence, Krea finally shook her head. “No. I have no stockings. Let me guess. I can get three pair of stockings for one and two.”

  The merchant grinned. “For a shol and two dalman, I will give you three pair of stockings and one set of under garments.”

  Krea didn’t even try. She knew when she had been beat. She just dumped the last three coins back on the table and shoved them across to the merchant. Her little money purse looked sad and empty.

  Sorin walked over to stand beside her and frowned at her empty money bag. “What did you buy that could require such a large deposit?” he asked.

  “That was no deposit,” Krea assured him as the merchant finished tucking her payment into his belt. “What’s the point in a deposit? Have you looked around? He’s not going to cheat anyone. He doesn’t have to. You should see what’s back there. No, I figured to just pay up the whole that I owe him and not have to worry about it getting stolen. There are thieves about, you know.”

  Sorin gave her one of his bemused looks, one eyebrow arched, his mouth void of any expression. It made her grin. “Krea,” he said, dropping his hand on her shoulder a little too hard. “Would you go wait with Dane while I talk to this man about repairing my cloak? See that he doesn’t touch anything.”

  Krea nodded and waved toward Dane. They both smiled innocently at the guard as they slipped out the door.

  When Sorin stepped out of the door a few moments later, without his cloak, he paused on the step and glared. Behind him, the guard jerked the door closed. “What were you two doing?”

  Dane jumped and practically climbed under Krea’s leg in his attempt to get behind her. Krea pushed him away and went back to cleaning her nails with her stolen knife. “We were waiting for you. Are you ready? The sun is long out of its crest.”

  Sorin raised one brow. “You were tormenting that poor guard.”

  Krea gasped, hand on her chest, and pretended outrage. “Tormenting a guard? Tal Sorin, how could you name me in such an offense? We did but wait as you asked, and so as not to distract your lordship and the good artisan from your business, we kept our conversation discreet.” At that, Krea glanced over at Dane. He chimed in with a nod, good lad. Pleased, she continued her charade. “What would you have had us do, milord?” she asked finally, nearly in tears.

  “Oh, may the goddess have mercy on your soul,” Sorin said with an exaggerated shake of his head. “And where did you learn to talk like that?”

  “Aye!” Dane said, staring up at Krea in wide-eyed wonder. “Ain’t never heard no lift talk like that.”


  Krea smiled. That ruse had gotten her out of more trouble than she could count. “Are we going back to the inn now?” she said, dropping the noble act. “I’m starving.”

  “I’m serious,” Sorin said. “I want to know how you learned to talk like that. Why don’t you sound like Dane or any of the other peasants? I would never know you grew up on the streets based on your speech.”

  She offered him a small bow. “And that is why I don’t talk like I grew up on the streets. I took great pains to learn how to speak correctly and even read a little.” Krea glanced over at Dane, who looked decidedly forlorn. “In Dane’s defense, I never got picked up by a runner. Once you’re being run as bait, there isn’t a lot you can do.”

  Dane frowned and stared hard at the ground. The little pelt was so stupidly cute she wanted to hug him. Instead, she put her arm around his shoulder. “I don’t need no mothering!” Dane yelled. He took four determined steps into the street, but before Sorin could call him back, the boy spun on his heels and marched right back to where he had started. “I did change my mind about charging for being your guide, though, and decided that you owe me supper.”

  Sorin’s lip twitched, but other than that, he managed a straight face when he addressed Dane. “A fair price. I take it you two are hungry?”

  “Aye,” Krea said. Dane only nodded. When Sorin didn’t turn back toward the inn, Krea frowned. “What’s the problem?”

  “We need to see to our baths before the bathhouse closes. We can’t go see a mage looking like this, and besides, Dane, you stink.” He turned to the boy. “Where is the bathhouse, guide?”

  At this, Dane shrugged. “Ain’t never seen one.”

  “You two stay right here. Do not move from this spot.”

  Krea thought about explaining the futility of his plan, but decided against it. He wouldn’t listen anyhow. A few moments later, the guard pulled the door closed again and Sorin pointed up the street. “He said it is there, by the big oak tree, but we need to hurry.”

  “I can’t go to no bathhouse,” Dane said as Sorin started ushering him up the street. “They ain't gonna let me in.”

  “They’ll let you in,” Sorin assured him, but Krea shook her head. Dane had spoken the truth sure as the sun would set.

  Chapter 11 – Oak

  “It be late, milord. I understan’ you wantin’ to help this poor wretch, but I ain’t dirtyin’ up the whole pool an’ riskin’ no diseases over the likes o’ him. I is sorry, milord. I can stay open a hour more for you an’ your...” The woman hesitated. She was clearly tired. She was tired before Sorin started arguing with her, but she was near exhausted now and she was fast losing her tact. “An’ you, mistress. But I ain’t lettin’ that boy in.”

  Krea sucked in a long deep breath and fought the urge to roll her eyes. Again. She had tried to warn him. They had both tried to warn him, but Sorin was having none of it. “Pray a word, Tal?” Krea asked in her well-rehearsed silky noble voice.

  Sorin’s confusion was obvious when he glanced around, which make Krea smile. So did the shock on the peasant woman’s face when she heard his title. “Let it go,” she whispered, pointing to Dane. “He can join us once we’re in.” She flipped her hand down toward the river dismissively. “Act like you’re conceding, and tell them Dane will go bathe in the river.” Krea glanced up at the sky, as if noting the late hour. “And I’ll tell him the rest.”

  Sorin nodded, but turned back to the drudge just a little too fast. She grabbed his arm and gave a slight shake of her head, pulling at her clothes as if to live in her own dirty skin one more day would likely kill her. “Slowly. Don’t be too eager,” she whispered. “Please,” she added, just loud enough to be overheard by the straining eavesdropper.

  Sorin stepped up to Krea and leaned forward. “You are scary,” he whispered, and then turned back to the woman, this time appearing much more chastened than his first attempt.

  As Sorin paid for their baths, Krea took care of sending Dane to the river. When the boy finally slumped off down the path, he looked every bit the part of an abandoned child. He may be a pelt, but the boy had some skill.

  Most of the bathhouse staff had been dismissed, so the two women who were left were scrambling to make the two tubs ready. Sorin didn’t know what all the fuss was about, since they didn’t even have to heat water. The bathhouse pulled water off a natural hot spring that ran from the rock face farther up the hill. Dane wouldn’t have dirtied their water any more than it running through the ground had.

  Once inside, Krea and Sorin kept the women running until they finally got wise and made themselves scarce. Krea hurried to wash. This was the second time in her life she had bathed in hot water and she wanted to languish in the beauty of it, but they had to hurry. More than a little sad, she grabbed the large wrap the women had left them and ducked out one of the many doors used to air out the room during hot summer months.

  As she had arranged, Dane was tucked into the roots of a bulging oak, waiting as motionless as stone. The boy managed to slip out of his clothes and under the water of Sorin’s stall only seconds before one of the attending women poked her head into the room. She glanced at Krea, who was in the wrong stall, with a curious expression. She didn’t comment, which was to her credit.

  “If I have need of you, I’ll call,” Sorin said in a tone that was polite, yet final. The woman bowed slightly and ducked away.

  Sorin was making short work of scrubbing Dane clean as Krea slipped back to her stall to dress. To his credit, the child stayed utterly silent during the entire assault.

  Faster than she would have liked, they were back in their freshened clothes and saying good-bye to the women, who were only too happy to see them leave.

  Once they circled around the side of the building, Sorin whistled. When Dane didn’t respond, Krea started to worry. What if he got caught? They should be in trouble, not him. Sorin whistled three more times before Dane finally came running around the corner, looking pale as an aspen. The sun was just kissing the horizon as dusk fell on the river town of Ryth, but even in the milky light, Krea could see that Dane was cold and scared.

  “What is it?” Sorin asked, heading over to meet him.

  “I seed a pulk,” Dane whispered, not even trying to cover the crack in his voice. “I seed a bunch of them.”

  Krea rolled her eyes. “Oh Dane, would you leave off with the pulks!”

  “Krea. Hush.” Sorin knelt down to the boy’s level. “Dane, what do you mean? What did you see?”

  “I was hiding in them roots, just like Krea said, and that’s when they comed. They was small. Like ’bout big as my leg, and they had scales that was they skin. It was real pretty, and at first, they was real pretty too. They was dancing ’round, and they was wanting me to dance with them.” Dane grabbed Sorin’s arm and shook it. “They seemed real nice, I swear. ’Cept something weren’t right about their eyes. They was…” Dane shuddered. “It was like they was sucking the air right out of my head.”

  A small tear slipped down his cheek, and he glanced over at Krea. “I stayed right there, just like you told me,” he assured her with a nod. “I didn’t move, and I guess that made ’em mad.”

  Krea glanced around as Dane swallowed hard and turned back to Sorin. He dropped his voice to barely more than a breath. “They turned evil. Their pretty scales got all slimy and their hair falled off. They was hissing and screeching, and their teeth had fangs like a pike fish, only longer, but they didn’t come near the tree. I just stayed there like Krea said, and they didn’t come near the tree.” Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t balk when Sorin pulled him into a protective hug.

  “What made them leave, Dane?” Krea asked, peering into the shadows that now seemed to be everywhere.

  “They runned away when you called,” he answered. “I waited, to be sure they wasn’t coming back, then I comed here.”

  Sorin glanced over at Krea. “I don’t see anything,” she said.

  He nodded. “Kee
p looking,” he said, and then looked back at Dane, who was trying to collect himself. “It was an oak tree, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Sounds like loireags, though I’m surprised they would be so far from the water.” Sorin released Dane and got to his feet. “Let’s go see about this tree of yours.” Dane’s eyes grew wide with fear, but Sorin took his hand and gave it a solid squeeze. “Don’t worry. They won’t come back.”

  “’Cause you is a wizard?”

  Sorin chuckled. “Well, one of us is, little morni.”

  Krea jogged over to catch up. “What does that mean?” she asked, but Sorin waved her off.

  “Take me to your tree,” he said.

  Dane grabbed Krea’s hand, his fierce grip not quite hiding his trembling. She held tight as he grabbed Sorin with his other and led them to the tree. As they rounded the bathhouse, the musty scent of wet animals filled the clearing. Dane held Krea’s hand in a death grip as he stepped over one of the protruding roots to get closer. Krea glanced around again, but still didn’t see anything.

  Dane’s tree was a sprawling oak. It wasn’t an enormously tall tree, but the oak’s roots dipped in and out of the ground in great curling ridges that seemed to wander for ages. Heavy branches scraped the ground where the ancient tree struggled to keep her great arms reaching up as they inched ever longer following a path set long ago.

  Sorin released Dane to Krea’s care and picked his way along the winding roots and branches to the sturdy, etched trunk. He ran his faerie-wood hand up the rough bark of the tree and closed his eyes. His hand was darker than the oak, but they were kin. What transpired between the caller and the tree, Krea couldn’t guess, but she had to admit she was a little bit jealous. His face took on a serene expression, and when he was finished, he smiled as he gave the trunk an affectionate pat.

  “She’s old,” he said, as if that should explain everything.

  Krea and Dane stared back.

  “She’s a very old tree. That’s why she was able to protect Dane from the loireags. Normally an ash or rowan is your protection from attacking faeries. An oak is a wonderful tree, but they are not usually strong enough to fend off more than one or two faeries at a time. But this lady is older than Ryth. She knows a thing or two about loireags.”