Inacia shook her head as she sat on the floor, pushing Hun-Ki over onto his side. "I don't think I will ever figure you out, Lord Valin," she said, laying back and resting her head against Hun-Ki's side. He lifted his head up to give her a quick lick on the cheek before dropping it heavily to the ground again.
"Good," Rial said, turning to lay on his back on the cot. "I wouldn't want a cruel woman such as yourself figuring me out anyway." He chuckled again when she reached up and smacked his arm.
**********
Sewati checked his packs on Chase before adjusting his cloak. He came around to the front and pulled up the big horse's hoof, checking for damage or injury. He'd lost a shoe some distance back, and this was the nearest village he'd found that might have a smith who could replace it. Chase's hooves were hard enough he didn't think he'd suffer any injury traveling that far without a shoe, but wanted to make sure. A cold light rain was starting to fall, and there was a briskness to the air that told him fall was fast approaching.
He'd had a lot of time to think since leaving Olorun. He wished Brijade had come with him, but he understood why she hadn't. She'd sworn her sword to Nahtan, and he knew she'd keep to that oath until her dying day. It wasn't that easy for him, though. Where she'd grown up being taught and groomed for her role as a member of the nobility and allied hold to Mo'ani to support Nahtan, Bear had spent his early years in the Mowik villages in the east learning about Anawuye and her grandson Mo'ani.
When Mo'ani had come to visit their villages and offered places in his allied holds for some of the Mowik boys and girls, both Bear and his brother had jumped at the chance to come and learn Mo'ani's Way. Their father had agreed and traveled with his sons to see them to Bavol Hold originally. Now Tuketu was dead, and Bear's best friend, their prophesied king, might as well be. Everything Mo'ani had taught them had lost all meaning to Nahtan, and as much of a brother as Nahtan had become to Bear, that was something he couldn't stand by and accept.
When Bear's mother had been killed by the BishopLord in their village, Mo'ani's Way had been what had saved him from going down a very different path. He could remember the struggle he'd had through his childhood, the thoughts of revenge, the anger and frustration. It had been Mo'ani's calm guidance that had kept him from giving into those things and had let him believe in something bigger than himself.
Bear sighed, taking the wrapped bowstave Jedrik had given him out from under Chase's packs and saddle and heading over to the blacksmith's. He wasn't about to leave the bow unwatched. He was still working on retraining the draw on it and didn't want to risk someone else messing with it and breaking it. The arrows were wrapped and secured across the back of his bedroll and he doubted anyone would bother those.
Bear also realized anyone watching him would also be warned off just by his appearance alone. Already quite a bit taller and larger than most men, that alone tended to make people cautious. His armor, red Mo'ani Warrior's cloak and Chase's size and obvious alertness beyond that of a normal horse only affirmed that he wasn't someone to start problems with.
He tied his long, fine black hair back with a strip of leather, then banged on the outside of the smith's door before pulling it open. Inside, the smith was working on patching a large kettle while another man sat on a stool a short distance away. The smith was average height, and while not burly, he was all wiry muscle and tendon. The other man dressed plainly, with short brown hair and average features. He had sharp eyes, though, and Sewati noted that he immediately looked him over completely as he walked into the smithy, pausing on both the bowstave he was carrying, as well as the longbow on his back. A lute sat near his feet with a sheathed short sword laying next to it. Both men looked to be perhaps in their mid-fifties.
"What can I do for you?" the smith asked, glancing up from the kettle as he fitted a patch on it.
"I've got a horse that needs a shoe," Sewati replied. He adjusted the wrapping on the bowstave where it came open, covering it better. "He threw one about four leagues back."
The smith nodded. "I can get to him as soon as I finish this," he said. "Coin or trade?"
"I can pay coin," Sewati said. "I'm not sure I have anything you'd want to trade for anyway."
"You never know," the smith grinned at him. "The wife likes an odd assortment of things, but coin is just fine with me." He paused to turn the kettle to check the inside. "It shouldn't be more than a couple of hours. Is he outside?"
"Big brown horse, you can't miss him," Bear said. He reached out to his bond with Chase, letting the horse know the smith would be coming to get him soon to replace his shoe. He ordered him to behave himself but not to let anyone else take him or to let them take him anywhere but the smithy. Chase pushed back against the bond, a mental snort and nudge and finally agreement. Bear had learned early on that he needed to be firm in his bond with the horse to keep him from getting into mischief.
"There's a tavern just down the road," the other man said. "I can show you if you want, I was just heading that way myself. The ale's decent and the food's good and they won't mind if you wait there until your horse is finished."
Sewati shrugged. "It's not like I'm going anywhere else right now," he said. It might not hurt to spend a couple of hours in a tavern, maybe being around others would take his mind off his thoughts at least for a little while.
The man stood up and gathered his things from the ground then followed Bear from the smithy.
"My name's Tabari," he introduced himself, buckling the short sword around his waist. "Wandering minstrel and wordsmith."
"Sewati," Bear returned.
"You make the second red cloak I've seen in about as many weeks," Tabari noted. "Which way are you headed?"
Bear glanced at him. Another Mo'ani had been through here? "North," he replied. "When did you see the other one?" He had debated trying to find Lord Valin to help free Valry, but had no idea where to look. Any information Nahtan had on where they might be, he'd kept to himself. Rather than waste time wandering around aimlessly looking for them, he'd decided to continue heading to Herridon like he'd told Brijade.
Tabari paused, thinking. "Must be close to two weeks ago now, maybe a bit longer. I was further north when I saw him. He was heading south, riding hard like he had the fires of hell after him." He glanced up at Bear. "He was riding one of those big horses you red cloaks get from further north. The smart ones."
"Dweller's horse," Bear supplied.
"Those are the ones," Tabari nodded. He paused when they passed Chase and he snorted and snapped at him. "He's just as big, but I don't think he's as smart."
Bear frowned at Chase. "He's smart enough," Bear assured him. Why would they send a rider to find Nahtan, especially one going top speed on a Dweller's horse? Most Dweller's horses were bred for battle, not long distance running for prolonged periods of time. The few who were bred for stamina, like Valry's horse Ayita, were rare. That they'd gone to the trouble of finding a Mo'ani who was bonded to a Dweller's horse bred for stamina over strength told him the news he carried was especially urgent.
"I don't suppose you've seen anything else out of the ordinary?" Bear asked him.
Tabari chuckled. "I tell stories, m'lord," he replied. "Everything I see is out of the ordinary--of course I am prone to a bit of embellishment from time to time if I have to so I can make it that way."
"How about something out of the ordinary that's not embellished?" Bear clarified.
Tabari glanced at him as they climbed the steps to the tavern and Bear pulled open the door.
"How about a trade?" he offered as they walked into the tavern. The room was well lit with a fire in the hearth. A few people sat around the room with a number of empty tables and benches. The smell of bread came from in back along with some kind of meat roasting.
"I really don't have anything to trade," Bear told him. He'd left Olorun with only his few personal items, and he wasn't interested in trading any of those.
"Oh, I'm not looking for goods," Tabari assured h
im. "I don't need to be weighed down with trinkets and treasures. I like words."
"I'm afraid I don't have too many of those right now either," Sewati said, pulling his bow off his back before taking a seat at one of the tables where he could have his back to the wall and keep both his longbow and the bowstave protected.
Tabari sat across from him and motioned to the barmaid for two ales. "You have a lot of words," he assured him. He pointed to the bowstave. "I have six thousand words for you, if you tell me where you got that."
Bear glanced at the bowstave. "A friend gave it to me," he said, his words cautious. "Why?" He was immediately wary that the bowstave had caught Tabari's attention. Sewati had known it was exceptional as soon as Jedrik had handed it to him, that Tabari seemed to recognize it from one quick glimpse in the smithy seemed suspicious. Especially since Jedrik had told him and Brijade that it had been stored in his hidden armory for years.
Tabari leaned forward over the table. "Does this friend have a name?"
Bear frowned. "Of course he does," he said. "But I don't see how it's any of your business." He wasn't going to just give out information, not when it was information that would lead directly to the Mo'ani armies. He may have turned his back on Nahtan, but he still had many friends there that he wasn't going to endanger, and he would die before he'd put Brijade's life at risk, especially knowing she was pregnant and the child could be his.
"I've heard of a bow like that," Tabari said. "It hasn't been seen for a long time. I heard it was lost in a battle, possibly destroyed in a fire. A longbow too tall for most men, cut from red wood the likes haven't been seen before or since, with a hard draw that most men can't pull. It takes a special string, too." He paused as the barmaid set their ales down on the table and he waved her away. "Will you at least tell me where you got it?"
Bear took his mug of ale when Tabari slid it over to him. The spool of material Jedrik had given him to string it with was still out in his packs, but he had told him it was stronger than linen and wouldn't need any special care even if it got wet. "Olorun," he replied.
Tabari rolled his eyes. "You know, there was a time when this whole land south of the mountains was called Olorun," he said. "All the way east to the river."
Bear shrugged. "You asked, that's where I got it." He took a drink from his ale, surprised that it was actually good quality that would have even impressed Calan. "I'll give you my friend's name for three thousand of your words," he offered. He decided to take a chance and see what kind of game this minstrel was trying to play. Minstrels often heard things, and were frequently the best sources for news and gossip between villages.
Tabari seemed to consider that offer, then nodded. "Blue cloaks," he said.
Bear frowned. First a Mo'ani rider headed south and now church guards? Things were sounding worse with each bit of information he was getting. He found he was slightly impressed Tabari had managed to fit three thousand words into just two syllables.
"Jedrik," he returned.
Tabari's eyes widened slightly. "I've heard that name before," he said, his tone thoughtful. "Where have I heard that name?" He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the side of his lute.
"Kind of a wild eyed old man, drops half his letters when he talks, he said he was South Steppes born," Bear supplied. "He fights like a damned demon, supposedly traveled all over the lands fighting and I believe it from what I saw."
Tabari nodded, recognizing Bear's description. "Yes, the Steppes born," he said. "There aren't very many of them left--they like to wander. He has a liking for treasure and war prizes."
Bear nodded, still not able to fully comprehend everything he'd seen in Jedrik's hidden armory beneath Olorun. "That's one way of putting it," he said.
"He must have taken a liking to you to give you a bow like that," Tabari said. "If that's the bow I think it is."
Bear shrugged. "We traveled together for a while," he said.
"You say he's in Olorun Hold?"
"I honestly don't know where he is now," Bear said. "The group he was with has probably moved on from there."
Tabari frowned at him. "I'll give you my last three thousand words if you tell me," he said.
"Why do you want to know so bad?" Bear asked. That was interesting. He must really want to find out where to find Jedrik if he was offering that.
"I tell stories, Sir," Tabari said. "I've heard of this Jedrik, and a man like that can give me enough stories to expand my library tenfold. The Steppes born are rumored to live extraordinary lives."
"You probably don't want to go where he is," Bear assured him. "I'm not predicting a lot of survivors."
"Is that why you left?"
Bear paused. He'd have gladly stood by Nahtan's side and even died there if his friend had only listened and not gone down the path he'd chosen. "No," he replied. "I left so I wouldn't kill someone in particular."
Tabari chuckled. "See? I knew you had a lot of words in you. I bet I could get a dozen stories out of you, too." He took a drink of his ale, then considered Bear for a long moment. "I'll give you those words anyway, you look like you need them. Some weeks ago, an army of about six thousand blue cloaks straight out of Basiyr marched north," he said. "They'd sent smaller groups ahead first, so my guess is they found one of the old maps and went to clear the tunnels so the army could march straight through."
Bear stared at him. Six thousand church guards marching north? That was enough to put the whole of Herridon City under siege. And if there were tunnels under the pass, depending on where they came out at, that would let them pass by Corydon and Bavol Holds completely.
"Do you know where this tunnel is?" he asked.
"Aye," Tabari nodded. "I've got a map of it in my things. I'll give you the map if you tell me where Jedrik is."
"Fine," Sewati agreed. "Get me the map first."
Tabari nodded. "Wait here," he said, standing up and leaving the tavern. He was only gone a few minutes before returning with a folded, yellowed piece of calfskin. He handed it to Bear as he sat down again.
Bear took it and unfolded it. An intricate tunnel system was mapped out, with different entry and exit points marked at various points in the mountains. It was easy to spot the route that would lead through from this side to an exit a safe distance from Bavol Hold. He muttered a curse, a sinking feeling in his stomach. The tunnels were easily large enough to accommodate an army if the dimensions were accurate.
"Jedrik's with the Mo'ani and Olorun armies marching on Basiyr," he said, his eyes still looking over the map.
Tabari stared at him. "Olorun's marching on Basiyr?"
Bear nodded his head, taking another drink of his ale. The barmaid reappeared with a loaf of bread and platter of sliced meat.
"That's going to be a battle for history," Tabari nodded after a long moment. "I guess I'm heading south, I can't pass up seeing that one firsthand. Nobody's dared try to take down Basiyr in--" he paused. "Two or three generations at least. I'm not even sure how many. The last fight there was a skirmish on the north side not even five years ago. A bunch of families banded together and tried to demand their children be returned from the temple. The keep's guards made fairly short work of them, but farmers are no match for the guards there." He paused again. "Four hundred, maybe four hundred fifty farmers against an even number of keep guards. It was fair well a slaughter that ran the fields crimson. If you look well enough, you can still find stones bearing their blood in the field where they fell."
Bear watched him for a moment, noting the details he used, as well as descriptions. "You're the one I've heard them talk about, aren't you?" he asked. "Half the villages we passed through talked about a minstrel who'd come through telling about the Mo'ani, or battles that took place there, or plagues or famines or who knows what else."
Tabari shrugged. "I told you, I like words," he said. "You can capture an entire emotion with just the right word, or sum up someone's entire existence. You can pay homage to a father's sacrifice for his
family, or a daughter's final embrace of her mother." He grew quiet for a moment. "Words encompass all we were, all we are, and all we could be, Sewati." He leaned forward to cut a slice of bread then put a piece of meat on it. "And they don't take up much room in the packs."
Bear watched him for a long moment. There seemed to be something almost regretful in his words, like he'd resigned himself to this role. He certainly didn't dress like other minstrels. Most of them who came through Herridon were loud, boisterous and exuberant, trying to draw attention to themselves and bring in as much coin as they could with as large of an audience as they could draw. Tabari seemed to go out of his way to try to blend in and go unnoticed. Were it not for the lute he carried, Sewati never would have guessed he was a minstrel. "Where'd you get the map?" he asked.
"I've had that a long time," Tabari replied. "I traded a man for it years ago when I first wanted to poke my nose north of the mountains but didn't want to brave the pass alone. I'd heard there were tunnels, so I started asking around at some of the settlements around the base of the mountains. I finally found an old goat herder who had that. He said it had been in his family for generations, but he was too old to use it anymore. He didn't have any family, so he was willing to trade me for it if I'd stay and help him get his herds down to the valley for the winter."
Bear nodded and cut a slice of bread from the loaf then put a piece of meat on it. He was surprised both were as high of quality as the ale.
"I'm starting to think we need to start scouring the mountains on that side for tunnel openings," he said.
"That might not be a bad idea," Tabari agreed. "I've heard there are other maps out there with other tunnel systems. I just needed the one, so I stopped looking." He paused, glancing at the wrapped bow again. "Would you mind showing me the bowstave? I'd really like to see if it's the one I think it is."
"Why are you so interested in it?"
Basiyr: Chronicles of Nahtan: Book 6 (The Herridon Chronicles) Page 6