Dragontiarna: Knights

by Moeller, Jonathan

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” said Caius in a quiet voice.

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “He blames himself for her death. I can’t see how it was his fault unless something happened that he didn’t tell us.”

  “Or that he simply doesn’t know about,” said Caius. He sighed. “I’m afraid suicide is all too common among the dwarves of the Three Kingdoms. The gods of stone and silence teach fatalistic and stoic acceptance of despair. But not all the dwarves have the strength to bear such things. Sometimes a man kills himself, and we never get to find out why. There was no obvious cause. His wife was faithful, his children dutiful, his business prosperous. Yet he slew himself nonetheless. There was some demon in his head that he never spoke of to anyone, and in the end, it overcame him and convinced him to slay himself.”

  “And you think this Caitrin had such a shadow of despair in her head?” said Kharlacht. “There was no good reason for her to kill herself. It wasn’t as if the lad would have left her destitute.”

  “Perhaps,” said Ridmark. “Or perhaps the shame of carrying a bastard child was too much for her. There is always some stigma in carrying an illegitimate child, and it falls harder upon the woman than the man.” He grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “He reminds me a little of Calliande. When…” He hesitated. It was always difficult to speak of that dark time. “When she was in mourning for Joanna.”

  “What helped her, then?” said Kharlacht.

  Ridmark snorted. “Getting transported halfway across the world to fight in the War of the Seven Swords.”

  “Not a cure I would recommend, generally,” said Caius. “But there may be something to that. Work is the best cure for grief. He needs something to do, something to occupy his attention. Prayer is always effective, of course…but kneeling in the dark lashing himself with his guilt will not help.”

  “The abbot is half the problem,” said Ridmark. “I am convinced that he has some grand plan to become a permanent advisor to Accolon. Then he’ll have the new High King’s ear when Accolon ascends to the throne one day.”

  “Perhaps the abbot is encouraging Accolon’s guilt,” said Kharlacht. “Making him more dependent.”

  “Probably,” said Ridmark, thinking it over. “Maybe we can convince Accolon to travel north with the men of Ebor if they set out for Sir Gavin’s lands. Tell Accolon that they need protection on the journey to Marhosk. That might shake him out of it.”

  “Perhaps you should ask Calliande to speak with him,” said Caius. “He has lost a lot of weight. Likely from fasting, but it is possible there is some physical malady she would recognize.”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. He started to say that seeing Accolon like this would upset Calliande, but then she had seen much worse things than this. She had seen men with their guts hanging halfway down their legs, screaming in agony and begging for help, and she had healed them when no one else could have done so. She had seen practically every form of human misery that could exist, and she had still not lost her compassion.

  It was one of the reasons he loved her.

  “Well, there’s nothing more to be done here,” said Ridmark. “At least for now. We’ll visit him again tomorrow with Calliande. Let’s go before the abbot decides to charge us rent for standing here.”

  “The abbot does seem overly fond of gold,” said Caius. He sighed. “But that is a common temptation among high churchmen. The sacrament of ordination provides no shield against the temptations common to all men.”

  They mounted their horses, left the monastery, and rode through the streets of Castarium and back to the castra. Ridmark’s eyes fell on the Salty Fish Inn, and he thought again of the blond woman he had seen watching him. She had been in the great hall to watch the judgments, but as Ridmark thought about it, he had been more certain she had been there to watch him, not the petitions.

  “Vegetius,” said Ridmark. “Your sister Miriam owns the Salty Fish Inn, does she not?”

  “Aye, my lord,” said Vegetius. Ridmark had met Miriam a few times. She shared the stockiness and blunt features of her brothers, but she possessed a sharp business sense and was probably one of the richer people in Castarium. “A right merry widow. I keep telling her to remarry, but she’s happy running the inn, and says a man would only get in her way.”

  “No doubt,” said Ridmark. “Do you know if she hired anyone new?”

  “Might have, my lord, might have,” said Vegetius. “I drink my sister’s beer when I’m in town, but I don’t tell her how to run her business. I’d hear the rough side of her tongue if I did, and God knows that’s as broad as the rest of her.” A few of the men-at-arms chuckled, though one of them cast a wary look at the inn, perhaps fearful that Mistress Miriam would overhear such disrespect. “Are you looking to have Rhiain work there? That might work, but she and Miriam would likely kill each other.”

  “No,” said Ridmark. “I saw a blond woman working in the stables, and again during the petitions today, and I am certain I saw her somewhere before.”

  Caius cleared his throat. “Given our conversation with Prince Accolon, perhaps you should not be looking for younger women…”

  “For God’s sake. No, I’m not looking for a mistress,” said Ridmark. “But something about that woman bothers me. I recognize her from somewhere.” His misgivings hardened, and he could at last articulate them. “And I think she was a foe when I saw her last.”

  “Maybe she was one of the Enlightened,” said Caius. “Some of the followers of Incariel escaped after Arandar took the crown. Or perhaps she was one of their wives or daughters.”

  Vegetius grunted. “I can ask Miriam if you wait here. A blond woman, you said?”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. “Blond, blue eyes. About five and a half feet tall. Somewhere in her early twenties.”

  Vegetius nodded, slid out of his saddle, and walked into the inn. Ridmark waited atop his horse, watching the crowds around him, and felt foolish. There was real business to attend to, and he was sending his men to chase shadows.

  “When a man has been a Swordbearer as long as you have,” said Caius, “best not to ignore your instincts.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” said Ridmark. “Otherwise perhaps I shall descend into paranoia as I age.”

  They did not wait long. Vegetius returned a few moments later, a puzzled frown on his face.

  “Well, my lord, it seems the girl is a thief,” said Vegetius.

  “Explain,” said Ridmark.

  “The woman’s name is Aeliana,” said Vegetius. “At least that’s the name she gave Miriam. Said she had been driven out of her home in Cintarra and was looking for a job. Miriam figured she was a hard worker and would have a pretty figure to draw the eye of customers. Worked hard at her job for about a month, and Miriam had no complaints. Then this morning Aeliana took everything from her room, and some of the coins in one of Miriam’s strongboxes went missing.”

  “One of?” said Ridmark.

  “Well, my sister doesn’t keep all her money in one place,” said Vegetius. “She says it’s smarter that way. Anyway, Miriam was furious. She thinks Aeliana is a thief and spent her month at the inn learning where the money was kept.”

  “Ah,” said Ridmark. Perhaps that explained why this Aeliana had troubled his instincts. No doubt she had turned her wits to theft and had been looking for things to steal at the castra. “Tell the men at the gate to watch for her, but she’s probably gone by now.”

  “I’ll go talk to them at once,” said Vegetius. “I’ll let all the men know and put out the word for the town watchmen. If she shows her face, we’ll catch her.”

  “Go,” said Ridmark, and Vegetius nodded, mounted his horse, and rode away.

  “Well,” said Caius. “At least that’s one mystery solved. I would wager you will find Aeliana stole from a few more of the town merchants before she escaped.”

  “Aye,” said Ridmark. That was the most likely explanation.

  Though he still could not shake the feeling that he had seen
her somewhere before.

  But where?

  ***

  Chapter 5: Games of Old Earth

  That night Ridmark hosted a larger dinner in the castra.

  As before, his family, Kharlacht, Kharlacht’s warriors, Caius, Flavius, Bishop Belasco, and the town’s curia were there. This time Ridmark also invited the town’s chief merchants and fishermen, mostly to hear their concerns. As it turned out, there were few enough. Ridmark heard the usual complaints about the weather, troubles on the roads, and the difficulties of raising crops. Everyone had heard the rumors about red orcs haunting the roads, but no one had actually seen one. By and large, Ridmark sensed the chief men of the town approved of how he had handled Niall’s case and approved even more that he planned to send the men of Ebor to the Northerland.

  Perhaps when Ridmark returned to Tarlion, he would leave instructions for Flavius to send any dispossessed commoners from Cintarra to either Marhosk at the edge of the Northerland or to Trojas in Owyllain. Neither the Northerland nor Trojas were likely to run out of available land anytime soon due to the attack of the Frostborn in the Northerland and the bloody tyranny Trojas had suffered for twenty-five years under the hand of Lord Taerdyn.

  Yet as Calliande would have said, that was only treating the symptom, not the illness itself. The illness was the greed and folly that drove the lords of Cintarra to dispossess the commoners of their lands. Cintarra was the richest city in Andomhaim, its power second only to that of the High King’s seat in Tarlion, but if the Regency Council continued its misrule, those riches would evaporate when a bloody rebellion rose in the villages of the River Cintarra.

  When he returned to Tarlion, Ridmark resolved, he would speak with the High King and urge him to act in Cintarra. Perhaps the time had come to remove the Regency Council and appoint a single regent who would govern the city until Prince Tywall came of age, a man strong enough to bring the unruly Cintarran nobles to heel.

  A year ago, Ridmark would have said that was the perfect task for Prince Accolon. Yet Accolon Pendragon was praying and starving himself in the monastery and was not fit to govern himself, let alone a city. If that went on for too much longer, it would start to erode Arandar’s authority, and more and more ambitious nobles would turn their eyes towards Accolon’s younger sister Nyvane.

  “I’ve spoken with the men-at-arms and the watchmen,” said Vegetius, interrupting Ridmark’s dark musings. “Many of them have seen this Aeliana woman.”

  “Today?” said Ridmark, surprised.

  “Ah, no. I meant over the past month,” said Vegetius. “Half the town goes to the Salty Fish to drink at the end of the day.”

  “A couple of my men have spoken with Aeliana,” said Sir Longinus, frowning. “They said she was fair enough and charming, but clever. A few of them would have, er, liked to have gotten to know her better, but she always managed to turn them down without being insulting.”

  “Miriam doesn’t allow that sort of thing under her roof,” said Flavius. “She says she’s a tavern keeper, not the madam of a brothel. Ah, begging your pardon, my lady.”

  Calliande smiled. “Praefectus, I have been a physician for a long time. I assure you that there is very little that people can do to one another, for good or ill, that I have not seen at least once.”

  “But I expect this Aeliana is long gone,” said Vegetius. “Three other merchants in town reported thefts of coin today, stolen while they were at court or the market day in the forum. Likely Aeliana picked out her targets in advance, studied their movements, and then escaped with her stolen prize when the time was right.”

  “I’m inclined to agree,” said Ridmark. If Aeliana wanted to disappear, it wasn’t hard to accomplish. All it would take was a modicum of knowledge on how to survive in the wilderness, and she could vanish and reestablish herself elsewhere in Andomhaim. Or she could travel through the gate to Owyllain and continue thefts in a realm where no one would recognize her.

  “If she’s caught, what should we do with her?” said Longinus.

  “Hang her,” said Ridmark.

  Flavius blinked in surprise. “You were more lenient with that young man from Ebor.”

  “Niall stole those animals in desperation, made no profit from his theft, freely admitted what he had done, and offered to work until he had repaid his debt,” said Ridmark. “Aeliana clearly planned her crimes out well in advance and fled. The difference is significant. Speaking of Niall, how do you find him?”

  “Seems like a good young fellow,” said Flavius. “I’ll start by putting him to work in the stables. He was too modest. Natural with horses. As for his aunt…she’s a proud old termagant, but she can keep a civil tongue, and she knows how to work. We’ll probably get her started in the kitchens. The cooks make meals for all the men-at-arms and the castra’s servants, so we’ve needed more help there for a while.”

  “Good,” said Ridmark. “Thank you for seeing to this.”

  By then they had finished with the soup of fish and vegetables, and the servants arrived with the main course, bread made from fish oil and fish cooked with spices. Ridmark hoped Rhiain and Niall had a taste for fish.

  “Speaking of Niall, Lord Ridmark,” said Antenora from where she sat next to Kharlacht, “there are several strange things about that dagger he carried with him.”

  Ridmark frowned. “What have you observed?”

  “I do not recognize the metal from which it is made.”

  Ridmark blinked. “It is steel, isn’t it?”

  “Aye, but there are differences in steel. It depends upon the source of the iron ore and the process that smelted the iron into steel,” said Antenora. “The differences are subtle, but an experienced smith can spot them as clear as words printed upon a page.” One of her rare smiles went over her face, a glint of humor in her eyes. “And, as you know, metallurgy is one of my interests.”

  “Indeed,” said Ridmark. Antenora had made the bracer he wore on his right arm, which let him unlock the power of the Shield Knight without falling into an exhausted sleep for days after.

  “But I do not recognize the steel from which that curved dagger was made,” said Antenora. “Perhaps the iron came from some mine in the Wilderland or the Deeps. Additionally, I do not recognize the symbol on the blade at all, though I suspect it is a glyph.”

  “A…a glyph, my lady?” said Sir Longinus, blinking at her. He seemed bewildered, but Antenora often had that effect on people.

  “Yes, sir knight,” said Antenora. “A kind of symbol. It is a form of writing. For our Latin alphabet, the letters are used to symbolize different sounds, and the combinations of those sounds makes words.” Longinus nodded. “A glyph, by contrast, represents either a single word or a kind of specific concept.”

  “The stonescribes of my kindred use glyphs for their formal records,” said Caius. He had finished his soup with appreciation and was halfway through his main course. Like Calliande, Caius enjoyed fish a great deal – the dwarves of Khald Tormen often dined on eyeless fish harvested from the caverns of the Deeps.

  “Then you don’t recognize the symbol or the language on the dagger?” said Calliande.

  “I do not,” said Antenora.

  “Could it have come from the Deeps?” said Ridmark. “Some tribe or nation of deep orcs?” That seemed the most likely explanation. Perhaps a new tribe of mutant orcs had found its way to the surface from the caverns of the Deeps.

  “It is possible,” said Antenora. “When I see Lady Third in Marhosk, I will show her the dagger and ask her opinion. If she knows anything about it, I will use magic to send a message to the Keeper.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Ridmark. Third was a thousand years old or close to it, and she knew much of the secrets and history of Andomhaim, even from before humans had come to this world. She had also traveled farther through the Deeps than Ridmark had ever done. Though she had never spoken of encountering red-skinned orcs.

  But Third rarely talked about her past.

&
nbsp; “You’re going to Marhosk?” said Calliande.

  “After I leave for Tarlion,” said Antenora. “I wish to rejoin my husband at the court of Dux Constantine in the Northerland. After we return to Tarlion and make sure nothing is amiss there, then Carlon and I and our household will take a barge to Marhosk. If Lady Third is in the city, I will speak with her then.”

  Calliande smiled. “I won’t stop you from going, but I will miss your help.”

  “Thank you, Keeper,” said Antenora. Another of the rare smiles flashed over her face. “But not as much, I think, as I miss Gavin.”

  Calliande laughed. “Likely not, no.”

  The remainder of the dinner passed in conversation. Ridmark considered himself fortunate that the troubles afflicting Cintarra had not reached Castarium, save for the men of Ebor camped outside the walls. And the troubles of Cintarra were the fault of the city’s nobles.

  Perhaps Arandar would be able to set matters right before they grew worse.

  ###

  Later that night, once the guests had left and the children had gone to bed, Ridmark sat with Calliande by the fire in their bedchamber and played chess.

  At this time of year, the nights in Castarium could become chilly, and a fire crackled in the hearth. The bedchamber was a large room on the highest level of the castra’s drum tower, with windows and a balcony looking towards the sea to the south. It had a hearth, a large bed, a desk and a chair, and a pair of comfortable chairs and a table facing the fire. A chessboard had been laid out on the table. It had been a gift from Calliande, once she had learned the rules of the game and found it enjoyable.

  The game was something that Antenora had learned on Old Earth, and she had taught it to her eldest son Philip as a means of mastering logical thought. Gavin had learned the game as well and had taught it to some of the other knights and Swordbearers in both Tarlion and the Northerland. Before much longer shops were selling both chessboards and chessmen in Tarlion, the quality ranging from simple pieces of fired clay to elaborately carved chessmen worked in marble.