Beyond Ragnarok

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Matrinka hefted Mior with her free hand, burying her lips in the tricolored fur and giving the animal a gentle kiss. “I’ve been looking for a way to serve Béarn. I’ll do what I can, but I’m no warrior.” She glanced sidelong at Kevral who smiled broadly at the understatement.

  Ra-khir slumped slightly, relieved by his companions’ quick agreement to a difficult task. “Settled, then.” He grimaced, abashed “Now all we need to know is who we’re looking for. And where to go.”

  Ra-khir’s discomfort became contagious. Even Kevral’s expression revealed perplexity. “We look for a Béarnide. Man, woman, or child. I’ll bet he or she’d be easy to spot in Santagithi.”

  Matrinka shook her head in disagreement. “We’ve been allies for a long time. Surely more than one Béarnide’s moved there.”

  Darris reminded, “And we’re not even sure Santagithi’s where to go. Easterners have dark hair and eyes, too. Most of them. They don’t tend to grow as large . . .” He added with a chuckle, “Who does? But I’m sure there’re enough big ones to make finding a Béarnide impossible. Not to mention the East’s awfully big to search at random.”

  Mior twined her way to Matrinka’s shoulders, then stretched out, forepaws draped on the princess’ chest.

  Kevral knew nothing about political structure. Renshai had little need for leaders, and “chieftain” mostly served as an honorary title. “Someone has to know who and where. Otherwise, why send the envoy?”

  “My mother knows,” Darris admitted. “But if I ask, she’ll tell me to find out for myself. It’s part of a bard’s training.”

  “What if you tell her it’s really important?” Matrinka searched for the loophole.

  Ra-khir answered for Darris. “She won’t tell him. The whole council’s sworn to secrecy. If we press too hard, we’ll lose the anonymity that might let us succeed where diplomatic parties fail.”

  Kevral nodded. It certainly explained Thialnir’s behavior.

  Ra-khir confronted Darris directly. “Don’t ask your mother. Better no one knows that we’ve even figured out there’s an heir out there.”

  “If there is,” Kevral could not help adding.

  “I, for one, believe there is.” Matrinka regarded her guardian, who shrugged. If the princess went, Kevral would accompany her, whether she chased heirs or misconceptions. “And there is one other who surely knows the answers we’re looking for,” Matrinka frowned. “Though getting information from the sage in the tower would be more difficult than trying to extract it from each council member in turn.”

  “That bad?” Ra-khir sounded incredulous.

  Darris nodded, curly bangs bouncing. “He hoards information like misers do silver. Even when the king himself needs to read, the sage hovers over him like an anxious mother placing her infant in a drunkard’s care.”

  A rustle in the brush attracted Kevral’s attention, and she whirled toward it, hands falling to her hilts. A young man rose from the undergrowth, black hair snarled and speckled with stems. Dark eyes glimmered, reflecting experience beyond obvious years. He seemed relatively small, though not remarkably so, and was still three finger’s breadths taller than her. He moved with a sinuous grace that explained how he had come so close without her noticing him sooner. That made him dangerous.

  “I can get what you need.” The stranger spoke with an unfamiliar, guttural accent.

  At the sound of his voice, Darris, Matrinka, and Ra-khir whirled to face him as well. The men scrambled between the newcomer and Matrinka, though Kevral already had security handled to her satisfaction. As quietly and quickly as he had come, he could never get past her to harm the princess.

  “Who are you?” Ra-khir demanded.

  The stranger studied the knight-in-training for longer than decorum allowed. Kevral thought she saw a flicker of recognition, followed by hesitation. Then the dark-haired youth spoke. “I’m Tae.” He pronounced it to rhyme with “die,” which seemed ironically appropriate.

  Kevral continued to study the newcomer’s every motion. Nothing about him suggested imminent violence. Faithful to her training, she would not draw a weapon unless and until she chose to kill him.

  Tae smiled. “And I can get what you need.”

  “And what might that be?” Ra-khir’s voice became a growl, and he obviously tested Tae. Of them all, the knight’s son seemed closest to attacking, and with good cause. Unlike Kevral, whose loyalty was only to Matrinka, Ra-khir had dedicated himself to the kingdom. The details Tae overheard, no matter how few, could harm Béarn.

  “Information from a sage’s notes,” Tae replied. “I can get that.”

  “How?” Darris demanded, seeming more interested in the process than concerned about Tae’s eavesdropping.

  “Let’s just say I can acquire it.”

  “Acquire?” Ra-khir’s brows lowered until his eyes became slits of condemnation. “You mean steal.”

  Tae shrugged, accepting the assessment, and the bad will. “You call it stealing; I call it collecting. If you call getting information stealing, then the bard of Béarn should spend his life in prison.” He glanced at Darris, then returned his gaze to Ra-khir. At least, it appeared so. Kevral noticed that Tae’s eyes never seemed wholly still but flitted from one to another of them, especially in response to movement.

  Ra-khir’s right hand fell to his sword hilt, and Tae shifted backward, almost imperceptibly. The knight-in-training growled. “I’ll not tolerate stealing. You, stranger, have no honor.”

  Kevral snorted at the obviousness of Ra-khir’s assertion, studying Tae more openly, from the rampant mop of too-long black hair to the coiled leg muscles that revealed readiness to fight or flee on an instant’s notice. If it came to either, he had best hope he could outmaneuver a Renshai.

  Ra-khir finished as if Kevral had never interrupted. “And we can’t tolerate your knowledge. I have no choice but to call you out.”

  “Call me what you want,” Tae shot back, “but my name’s Tae.”

  Ra-khir blinked, missing the connection for a moment that allowed Kevral to snicker without reproof. He glared at her, still addressing Tae. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and attribute your response to the ignorance of low upbringing rather than malice. I just challenged you to a duel.” He glanced knowingly at Matrinka and Darris, unable or unwilling to explain his true motivation aloud. Kevral understood. An untrustworthy foreigner had overheard matters of kingdom security. One way or another, he had to be silenced.

  Matrinka clutched Mior, features betraying horror, turning to Darris for the words to diffuse tension that seemed to come wholly of knightly formality. Darris tossed her an “I’ll explain later” gesture that obviously only partially mollified her.

  Ra-khir continued. “To the death. With knives, since you carry no sword.”

  “No,” Tae said.

  “No?” Ra-khir repeated, thoughtfully running back over his words to find the ones to which “no” could possibly apply. “I called the challenge, so I decide the details.”

  “Fine,” Tae returned. “Decide them. But I’m not taking your challenge.”

  “Refusing the challenge?”

  “Right.”

  “So you have no honor.”

  Kevral snorted. “What clued you first? The silent snooping or the offer to steal?”

  Ra-khir glared at Kevral.

  Tae did not deny the assertion, though he did fidget less when Ra-khir’s scrutiny switched to the Renshai.

  Ra-khir turned on Kevral. “You have none either, but I’m forced to tolerate you.”

  Ra-khir’s words inflamed Kevral. As usual, she quoted Colbey, “Don’t condemn my honor just because it’s different from your own.” She added cruelly, “I’ll take your challenge any time, Ra-khir. Any time.”

  The Erythanian tensed, as if to respond to her demand with the violence she requested. But true to his honor, he did not attack in anger. “I’ll deal with you later. For now, I have more important matters to handle. I don’t
appreciate your interference.”

  Kevral rolled her eyes, annoyed by his formality and feeling vaguely guilty over starting unnecessary conflict. For all his bother, Ra-khir was right this time. “Carry on.” She gestured at Tae and closed her mouth.

  Tae observed the proceedings, displaying only curiosity, though the set of his stance suggested hidden nervousness to Kevral. Whether that came of threatened battle with Ra-khir or something else, she could not guess. “I don’t take your challenge. I don’t want to fight. I just want to help.”

  “Why?” Ra-khir demanded.

  “I have my reasons,” Tae responded, a worthless answer, yet the only one they would receive.

  Ra-khir sighed, then dropped into silence, his work done. If the stranger refused to duel, that decision left Ra-khir little recourse. His honor would not allow him to attack one who would not fight.

  But Kevral’s honor contained no such rule. She saw an enemy to whom they had unwittingly given information that could destroy Béarn and the one remaining heir. As clearly as Ra-khir, she knew what they must do. Matrinka would never think to kill. Darris would not attack until he gathered the necessary information to prove Tae’s motivation. If he killed the Eastlander out of hand, Darris would lose the chance to ever understand or know for certain; and that lapse would haunt him to his grave. Also, he did not seem the type to lead with his sword, preferring songs of peace to those that immortalized heroes or praised warriors. Kevral labored under none of these constraints, yet still she hesitated for reasons of her own. First, though it seemed bluster, Tae might be able to deliver the information he promised and that they so sorely needed, whatever its source. And second, she liked him. The security of Béarn’s heirs must always take precedence.

  These thoughts buzzed through Kevral’s mind. In the end, her choice became clear. Without warning, she lunged, drew, and cut; but not fast enough. Her sword cleaved air. Tae disappeared into the woods like an animal, and only a faint rustle of brush revealed his passing. Kevral swore, not bothering to pursue, certain it would prove fruitless.

  Ra-khir watched in tacit disapproval, surely torn between condemning her unannounced force against a lesser armed, unwilling opponent and relief that honor did not bind her against such a threat as it had himself.

  Matrinka gaped, dropping Mior in her startlement. “Why did you . . . ? Why?” She stopped, deferring to Kevral’s better judgment on who or what might prove a threat to her own well-being. “Was he about to harm me?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Kevral sheathed her sword, listening for some indication of which direction Tae had fled. She heard only the crackle of leaves in the wind. “He’s a stranger, an Eastlander by accent, and he knows Béarn’s future rests with a single heir. He also knows where to get details about the heir.”

  “The sage?” Darris caressed his lute absently. “That was bluster. No one could steal those papers.”

  Matrinka frowned, while Mior pranced in a disgruntled circle. “He seemed awfully sure he could.”

  “If he does,” Ra-khir groused, “Kevral’s virtually assured he sells the sage’s notes to our enemies rather than bringing them to us.”

  “Assuming he isn’t already one of them,” Darris added.

  Kevral stiffened, saying nothing, as enraged at herself as Ra-khir was. Tae’s quickness astounded her. Few men, until now she would have said none, could outrun a Renshai draw-cut. The need to concede Tae’s agility only fueled her discomfort. If he could escape from her, perhaps he could also do as he claimed. And, though she despised his delivery, Ra-khir was right again.

  “Oh, no.” Matrinka recognized the threat and shuddered at the potential consequences. “We’d better tell someone. We need to stop him.”

  “Who are we going to tell?” Darris shook his head. “We can’t get to the king. I don’t trust Baltraine.”

  Ra-khir vigorously nodded his agreement. “My father thinks it best for security if the people of Béarn place their faith in Baltraine, but he can’t control my feelings about the man.”

  “Quiet!” Kevral shushed the others in a loud whisper. “Tae, or others like him, may still be listening.”

  Everyone fell silent, glancing furtively around the clearing. Darris pointed toward the castle and headed for it. They all followed carefully.

  No one spoke until they passed through the gates and settled into a private garden in the courtyard. Surrounded by the heady scent of roses, Ra-khir glanced anxiously at the sky. Kevral knew he was already late for practice.

  Darris continued as if the interruption had never occurred. “Anyone we tell is going to report to Baltraine. There’s no way to keep this from him.”

  Kevral remained standing while the others sat. That Tae had managed to draw so close without her knowing it sent chills prickling her back. His inhumanly rapid departure only added to her uneasiness. “There’s one way.”

  All eyes turned to Kevral.

  “We don’t tell anyone. We handle this ourselves.”

  “Us?” Matrinka stared. Mior stood on the bench beside her, fur rumpled, apparently on the verge of forgiving Matrinka for her sudden flight. “What can we do?”

  “Remember, my father believes we can succeed where diplomats failed.” Ra-khir took Kevral’s side, to her surprise. “There’s no need to risk a panic. We’ll just have to find Tae again. And stop him.”

  Chapter 12

  New Information

  The Renshai have no need for companions who mistrust us.

  —Colbey Calistinsson

  For Kevral, the Fox-meal Clearing no longer held the serenity it had prior to Tae’s arrival the previous day. Interwoven boughs still formed a leafy umbrella against a drizzle pattering in a steady, regular cadence above their heads. Midday sunlight dribbled through the clouds in patches and through gaps in the foliage in smaller streaks. Matrinka sat with Mior on a weathered stump. Ra-khir perched on a deadfall directly across from her. Kevral remained attentive and standing, holding little faith in Ra-khir’s plan to capture Tae. Darris wandered quietly through the woodlands. At Ra-khir’s urging, it had become the bard’s heir’s task to watch for spies while the others conversed. Ra-khir surmised that Tae, or other quiet enemies, would attempt to learn more from them, so they had met here again rather than on the castle grounds. The Erythanian had originally suggested that Kevral skulk around them to kill or, preferably, catch any enemy who tried.

  When Kevral refused to leave Matrinka, Ra-khir had dispatched Darris to the task instead. The whole seemed nonsense to the Renshai. Every rattle of brush made her twitchy, and she had to keep reminding herself of Darris’ presence. Tae already learned everything he needed to know from us. Kevral groused over Ra-khir’s plan, finding it useless yet unable to invent a better one of her own. In the first few moments, it had managed only to unnerve her and make any conversation impossible. It’ll never work.

  Kevral scarcely had time to raise the thought before Darris’ warning whistle pierced the damp air. All heads swung toward him. Ra-khir scrambled to his feet. They had rehearsed half a dozen similar codes. This one revealed Darris had discovered someone but did not need their assistance. Kevral stiffened, opening a pathway for Darris to haul his captive into camp, remaining near enough to the edge of the clearing that she could handle the spy should he attempt escape or attack. She positioned herself mechanically, while startled thoughts rushed through her mind. She had never expected Darris to find anyone. If he did, she believed he would require their assistance to kill or take even one prisoner. This seemed too simple, and that worried her.

  Tae stepped through the trees first, Darris close on his heels, though neither held a drawn weapon. For a hostage, Tae seemed amazingly unconcerned. He smiled as the others came into view. He wore the same tattered shirt and pantaloons as the day before, but they seemed cleaner. He had combed out the stems and tangles from his hair, leaving a glistening mane so black the sun struck blue highlights from it. His face bore a few scratches, and his hands se
emed to carry all the dirt that no longer rimed his clothes and head. Kevral studied those hands, work-callused and little larger than her own. They swung loosely, without any indication that Tae intended to brandish a weapon or even to struggle. Kevral did not wholly trust his composure, however. Tae had already shown, by his abrupt disappearance last time, that he did not broadcast his actions as most people did.

  Darris followed stiffly, shrugging behind Tae’s back, a gesture Kevral took to mean that Tae had come of his own volition. Tae confirmed that impression by stepping unhurriedly but deliberately into the center of the clearing and announcing, “I got it.”

  Ra-khir glanced at Kevral who shrugged noncommittally, placing the onus back onto the Erythanian. Ra-khir looked at Tae again. “Got what?”

  “The information I promised.” As if suddenly recalling his manners, Tae nodded a greeting to each of the women in turn. “I know all about the heir.”

  The group exchanged uncertain gazes. Kevral edged closer. The clearing left too many openings for evasion, but she hoped proximity would make him easier to grab or kill if either become necessary.

  Darris recovered first. “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “How?” Darris asked, his bard-inquisitiveness more fascinated by process than detail. He had tried to acquire the same knowledge and failed.

  Tae turned to Darris, his stance growing tenser as he noticed that, intentionally or otherwise, he had become surrounded. “As I said I would.”

  “From the sage?” Darris persisted.

  “Yes.” Tae must have read doubt because he continued, describing details to prove his statement. “Twelfth story. South tower.”

  Matrinka chimed in. “But the only entrance is inside the castle.” Her concern for Béarnian security touched Kevral as well. To have done as he claimed, Tae would have had to breach the walls into the courtyard then sneak inside the castle and past a host of guards. That anyone could have done so placed every member of the king’s household at risk.