Well of the Damned

by K. C. May

  Risley stuttered. “Ah, well, he is sixty-eight, my liege. An erstwhile man, yes, but still able to train the young ones. He’s given me and my family fifty-two years of service. I couldn’t simply put him out before he could make his arrangements.”

  Adro cringed inside. A man that old would be unable to defend his lord against a younger battler with ill intentions. There should be an age limit on guardian positions, making room for men like Adro who were more capable and more ambitious.

  “Give him leave to retire and promote your strongest fighter,” Gavin said. “Honor his loyal service with a pension o’half his wage. I’ll cover the cost.”

  Adro’s admiration for his friend and king soared. A pension. What a fine and honorable thing to do.

  The old lordover’s eyes widened, and a smile appeared in the beard. “Thank you, my liege. He will be overjoyed. Thank you.”

  “If you’ve no other plans,” he said, “join my wife and me for supper tonight.”

  “Oh. Uh, the Lordover Tern has graciously invited me to dine with his family. I’ll cancel of course, my liege.”

  “No, don’t cancel if you’ve other plans. Another time.”

  “Please make yourself comfortable in His Majesty’s receiving room,” Edan said, “and enjoy some refreshment before you go back out into the rain.”

  Risley bowed deeply and shuffled away.

  Edan shot Gavin a disapproving glance. “A pension, Gavin?”

  Gavin grinned like a boy getting away with mischief. “If I hadn’t claimed the throne, I might’ve found myself in the old soldier’s position one day, outliving my usefulness and begging one o’my nephews for a pallet and piece o’bread. We got to honor our most loyal soldiers, not kick them in the arse as we shove them out the door.”

  Adro’s heart swelled with pride in the king as he turned to the waiting crowd, but Gavin called him back.

  “I nearly forgot. Tell my wife there’s a couple orphan boys in the dining hall waiting to talk to her.”

  Adro nodded. “Right away.”

  Chapter 9

  When the clock in the temple tower struck twelve o’clock, the guards ushered the remaining petitioners out of the grand hall. As usual, many of them grumbled and complained about how long they’d been waiting, especially those standing near the front of the line. Gavin felt bad, but he would be back here again tomorrow. In the meantime, he had plans to make and problems to ponder, not the least of which was how to deal with the rain, but knowing why Crigoth Sevae had summoned Ritol to kill King Arek was the question that kept him awake well into the mirknight. Maybe one of the books they’d salvaged in the wrecked palace would give him a clue.

  The last petitioner had come to complain that the Lordover Tern’s waste collection wagon only visited some areas every other day, and when the wagon was fully loaded, the driver accepted no more. People were throwing the contents of their chamber pots into the street. Even though the rain cleaned it away, the excrement was being washed into the River Athra. People living upstream were soiling the water for those downstream. “That’s people’s drinkin’ water,” he said, stabbing the table with his gnarled forefinger. “It ain’t right.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Gavin said. “Thanks for bringing it to me.”

  Edan and Daia began to gather up the papers and books and writing supplies. “It’s been a productive day,” Daia said. “You heard eighty-seven people today. That’s three more than yesterday.”

  A blonde-haired woman, comely with large blue eyes, walked slowly towards the table, her hands on the shoulders of a dark-haired girl she steered in front of her. The woman held Gavin’s eyes with a curious expression of recognition mixed with doubt and confusion. One of the guards tried to get the woman’s attention and direct her outside with the others, but she seemed not to notice. “You’re King Gavin? Gavin Kinshield?”

  “I am,” he answered. Looking at the child, he was struck by her eyes – dark-brown and deeply set, hooded beneath a prominent brow. If he didn’t know better, he’d have taken her for a Kinshield.

  “The king sees no more petitioners after noon,” the guard said as she approached. She started to take the woman by the arm, but Gavin stopped her with a raised hand.

  “It’s awright. I’ll see one more.” To the woman, he said, “How can I help you?”

  “I— I’m confused. My daughter’s father told me his name is Gavin Kinshield. You look like him, but you aren’t him. He has no scars on his face, he has all his teeth in front, and I’m fairly certain he’s older than you. Not by much, I’d imagine, but a few years. ”

  He looked the child over again more carefully. He guessed her to be about eight years old. Her eyes looked strikingly similar to his own, as did the shape of her jaw and the gentle waves in her dark hair, though he and his brother had both been blond until about ten years of age. Even her mouth resembled his, but she couldn’t be his bastard. She was too old to have been conceived in the five years since Talisha’s death, and from the day he’d met Talisha until the day she died, he’d been with no one else. Unless this girl was much older than she looked and small for her age, she simply couldn’t be his child. “Well, I’m Gavin Kinshield, but she can’t be my daughter. Besides, I’d remember you.”

  “For eight years, her father’s been giving me a monthly stipend to feed and clothe my girl. Three months ago, the money stopped, and no word followed.”

  Gavin broke into a sweat. The man she described, a buck who looked like him and who had disappeared three months earlier, had to be Rogan.

  “I came here thinkin’ I’d find him. Have you a brother, perchance?”

  Edan and Daia had stopped what they were doing and were staring at the girl. Edan cleared his throat. “Perhaps Daia and I should take these things to your library and meet you there later.”

  Gavin nodded absently, dumbfounded. Rogan had a bastard daughter about the same age as GJ. Could it be true?

  Daia shot Edan a glance and shook her head desperately, but he gripped her arm and ushered her away. She whispered fiercely about needing to stay to hear what this woman had to say, but Edan shushed her and quickened his pace. Their footsteps faded towards the back of the room.

  When the back door opened and shut again, Gavin walked around the table and squatted down before the child. Her eyes were like his own, like Rogan’s. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Keturah,” she replied in a soft voice. “Kinshield. Please don’t hate me.” Keturah started to cry.

  Gavin’s heart sputtered. “Why would I hate you? You’re just a little girl. You’ve done me no wrong.”

  She bowed her head. “My papa’s ashamed o’me. That’s why he left.”

  Gavin put his hands on the girl’s shoulders. “It’s hard sometimes to think there might be other reasons for a man’s behavior when you feel hurt, but let’s see if we can untie the mystery o’who he is and what’s happened to him. There’s probably a good explanation for why he disappeared.” He looked up at Keturah’s mother as he stood. “What’s your name, my lady?”

  “It’s Nicholia Sparrohs, my liege,” she said with a curtsy.

  Gavin sat one cheek of his arse on the table. “Nicholia, tell me what you know about this man. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “It must’ve been the first of Junis, around noon. He was regular, like the sun rising in the east, always coming the first day of the month. He would wrap coins and some small gift for Keturah in a piece of cloth and leave it under a loose rock near my doorstep. Mostly he’d knock and then leave before I could get to the door, but I recognized him from behind as he rode away. Now and then he would wait until I answered and ask how Keturah fared. He always had a kind word for her, though I could tell it pained him to see her.”

  “Where does he live?”

  She wrung her hands. “I don’t know. He said he’s a warrant knight and travels all over Thendylath, but I seen him taking a bunch of arrows into the bowyer’s shop in Saliria o
nce or twice, so I think he might also be a fletcher. Over the years I grew to suspect he had another family. A couple of years ago, I asked him, and he admitted he has a wife and three sons.”

  A fletcher in Saliria who looked like Gavin and had three sons could only be one man. Rogan, what the hell did you do? He rubbed his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. This girl was his niece. The question was: what was he going to do about it? What would a king do?

  “Is he a relative?” Nicholia asked. “You look like him. Brother perhaps?”

  Gavin patted Keturah’s shoulder. “Wait here for a moment. I need a word with your mama.” He gestured for Nicholia to walk with him. When they were out of the girl’s earshot, he said, “Tell me how you met.”

  “We met in the Old Oak Tavern in Saliria. I work there as a barmaid, and it was slow that night. He seemed angry or upset about something, and so I flirted a little to try to lift his spirits. He was such a nice man, handsome. Anyway, he flirted back, and I shared a drink with him. The next thing we knew, we were in the back storeroom…” A flush rose in her cheeks. “It was only one time, but he came back to the tavern several times over the next few weeks to apologize. One day, he noticed my belly was growing. I was betrothed at the time, but...” She hung her head. “...he broke it off, with good reason. He didn’t want to raise another man’s baby.”

  Gavin nodded pensively. He didn’t know the details of Rogan’s relationship with Liera, but he remembered there was a time when the two weren’t getting along as well as usual. When he’d gone to see his newborn nephew, GJ, the two hardly spoke to each other. Did Liera know about her husband’s infidelity and the resulting child?

  “I don’t want to make trouble for him with his family,” Nicholia said. “I never meant to come between them. I’m fond of him — I won’t lie. He’s the father of my child. We need to know what’s become of him. What’s his true name?”

  He looked into Nicholia’s eyes. “The man you’re describing sounds like my brother, Rogan. He died three months ago.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes welled with tears. “By the Savior! How did it happen?”

  He knew she would ask this, but the words caught in his throat like a piece of meat he couldn’t swallow. The image of his brother’s severed head flared in his mind as it had in nightmares over the last three months. She didn’t need the details, and he didn’t want to speak of it. “He was murdered.”

  Nicholia burst into tears. Keturah ran to her and threw her arms around her mother’s waist. “Mama, what’s wrong? Is Papa dead? Is that why he quit coming?”

  “Yeh, love. That’s why. May the Savior welcome him into His loving embrace,” she said. The words came out ragged and soft. “Have you caught the killer?”

  “The killer was slain. Let’s leave it at that,” Gavin said. If Keturah wanted to know more when she was older, he would tell her. For now, this was enough. “Sorry I had to give you the bad news. Keturah, he was a good man and would’ve made sure you and your mama got what you need.” To Nicholia, he said, “You don’t have to worry about money. Tell me how much he was giving you, and I’ll send triple.”

  “Bless your generous soul,” she said.

  “Do we still have to live at grandmother’s house?” Keturah asked her mother.

  “Hush now,” Nicholia said.

  Gavin thought this day couldn’t get any worse, but he had a feeling it was about to. “Is your home in Saliria flooded?”

  Nicholia nodded. “My mother’s home in Tern hasn’t flooded yet. We’ll be fine there for a time.”

  He exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to have to explain to Liera that Rogan’s bastard daughter and the woman who’d borne her were staying as guests in the palace. “If that changes, I want to know about it.”

  Chapter 10

  Gavin sat alone in the downstairs library with his head in his hands, wrestling with his thoughts. In the two hundred years since the palace had been abandoned, the demon Ritol had destroyed the furniture and artwork and most of the books, but Feanna and his sister-in-law Liera had painstakingly arranged to have this room restored. They’d followed Gavin’s description of the way it had been when he’d met king Arek face to face during his first back-traveling excursion and had done an extraordinary job, though the style of furniture was updated and the colors were slightly brighter. This had easily become his favorite room in the palace.

  His thoughts returned again to the brown-eyed girl, Keturah Kinshield. He couldn’t get her face out of his head. Why, if Rogan was this girl’s father, would he have named Gavin? It didn’t make sense. Had he been trying to protect himself or his family?

  He sensed Feanna’s approach and turned to watch her appreciatively as she entered the room and closed the door. Her curvaceous figure was accentuated by the buttery yellow dress, scooped just low enough in front to draw his eye. The lace-accented gown brought out the golden hue in her hair flowing over her shoulders in gentle curls. Though she wore dresses fancier and more befitting a queen than the simple ones she’d owned when they first met, she was still the demure and humble yet determined woman he fell in love with. He rose and placed a kiss on her lips and, inspired by their softness, another.

  “Now that you’ve chosen Jophet as Supreme Councillor of the Militia,” she said, taking a seat across from his desk, “I want you to name Lilalian as my champion.”

  He raised his brow in surprise as he sat beside her. “Why?”

  “She was so heartbroken over not being chosen, and she’s a good leader and battler. I don’t want her to leave us.”

  “Feeling sorry for someone ain’t a good reason for giving them an important job. I was planning to name Tennara.”

  She scowled. “But I prefer Lila.”

  “Tennara’s the better choice, but I’ll take more time to consider. I didn’t expect you home so early today,” he said. “How was your visit to the orphanage?”

  He saw something in her gray eyes that he had never seen before. It worried him, and he took her hand and asked what was the matter. Her eyes welled with tears, and she bowed her head before sobs overtook her. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, kneeling before her and drawing her into his arms. “It’ll be awright.” He held her for several long minutes while she cried, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Finally, when she regained control, she pulled back and dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief she’d made a part of her wardrobe.

  “It was awful, Gavin. Some of those children were sleeping with mice in their pallets, and probably rats too, and bugs. The kitchen…” A strong shudder shook her shoulders. “There were roaches everywhere, running across the floor, climbing on the tables and over the food. It was disgusting.”

  “What was their excuse?”

  She let out a growl of frustration and anger. “His excuse was arrogance and denial. He had the children hidden away somewhere, but I saw some of them, and they looked underfed. There was a chair, Gavin. He tied children into the chair when they misbehaved, and he kept a variety of switches in the same wardrobe where he kept their toys.”

  “So what’d you tell him? How’s he going to fix it?” He took his seat again but held onto her hands.

  A smile brightened her face. “You’d have been proud of me. I threatened to shut the place down and move the children. I would have – I was ready to proceed – but he convinced me to let him fix things.” She outlined her agreement with the orphanage overseer, and Gavin nodded his agreement as she spoke.

  He was proud of her. After hearing her express doubts almost constantly about her ability to fulfill the role of queen, it lifted his spirits to see her confidence building. She made a wonderful queen, but he couldn’t convince her of that. She needed to learn it herself, and it appeared she was on her way.

  Excitement quickened her tongue as she said, “I’d like to also provide books and hire people to teach the children to read. It’s a skill that can come in handy when they’re older. Aside from
learning to read and count, I think they ought to be taught a trade – carpentry or tailoring or cobbling or cooking – something they can use when they’re old enough to leave the orphanage. Something their parents might’ve taught them had they not been taken so early.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He often wished he’d spent more time learning to read, as Edan’s father, the Lordover Lalorian, had urged. “Maybe we can give tradesmen some kind o’payment to take these children under their wing.”

  “Oh, Gavin! That would be wonderful, but won’t Edan object to the expenditure?”

  “When people are happy, they’re productive, and when every citizen is productive, the whole country’ll thrive. I don’t think he agrees, but we won’t know unless we try it.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree.” Her enthusiasm didn’t stop there. “I want to go to Ambryce and visit the orphanage there. If it’s as wonderful as I’ve heard, it could be a model for the orphanage in Tern and elsewhere.”

  “Sure, once the rain stops,” Gavin said. At her scowl, he explained, “The rain makes travel dangerous. There’s no telling when the sky’ll clear.” Especially if the rain was magically caused, as the weather scientists believed.

  “The children’s welfare can’t wait until it’s convenient for me. They need my help now, rain or not.”

  “I didn’t say wait until it’s convenient. I said wait until it’s safe. You’re the queen. I won’t let you take unnecessary risks.”

  “It’s not a risk if there’s no danger. The Lordover Keyes traveled all this way without incident, and he’s an old man. He told me the roads were passable. I’ll have Lila and Tennara with me, plus your choice of guards and my usual attendants. They won’t let anything happen to me.”

  He grunted in response, unappreciative of the skill with which she countered his argument.

  She smoothed his hair with a calming, loving hand. “I would ask you to come with me, but you have other pressing concerns. I can do this. You believe in me, don’t you?”