"Then I will leave early tomorrow," he said.
"Very well, I will depart now and carry the word," Tyrillick turned to go. "Until then, safe journeys!"
"That's awful strange," said Billy after Tyrillick had departed. "Very abrupt-like, if ye ask me. An' what about that perfume? Mighty strange sensations it gave off! Who's the maker of it?"
"Billy," Ashlord advised him, "it is best not to ask too many questions just now. All will be revealed when we return."
"Huh?"
"You and Sheila and Ibin will stay here while Robby, Ullin, and I go to the Tallin lands."
"What?" cried Sheila. "Why can't we all go?"
"Someone needs to stay and see to our route west," Ashlord coolly explained. "And I think we may save time if we travel with fewer in our company."
Before Billy or Sheila could protest, Ibin spoke up.
"Ithink, Ithink, weshould, weshouldallstaytogether, Mr.Ashlord," Ibin said flatly.
Surprised by Ibin's statement, Billy stared at him and nodded.
"Well, I suppose we all have a stake in this journey," said Robby. "If this is business that has to do with us, then maybe it's best we share in the knowledge of it."
Ashlord leaned on his walking stick, intent upon Robby. Perhaps Robby was beginning to assert himself, at least in small ways. Ashlord perceived, too, that the others were in no mood to be left behind.
"Very well," he sighed at last. "Captain Makeig, is there any chance that we might meet with the Blaney brothers this night?"
"They've been sent for," he said, "an' should be here in a couple of hours. They'll be tired an' wantin' food an' sleep, though. Been out on the south patrol for a week."
"Can you tell us if our westward route may be taken up from the Tallin lands?" Robby asked. "Or should we come back through here?"
Makeig rubbed his nose in thought.
"Well, it's a bit south of what I reckon the Blaney brothers might commend to ye," he said, as if thinking aloud. "O' course, it's only a day or so out. But, then again, them warlords, hmm. Ain't no easy way west. Well, I reckon them Blaneys'll be best to tell ye," he said at last. "Meanwhiles, drink ye fill. An' supper's on the way! All on the house, ye might say, even though there's a jar up on the bar for loose coins, if ye take me meanin'."
"So what about that perfume?" Billy pressed as soon as Robby and Ullin sat back down.
"Its making is a secret," Ashlord said. "And that's all you need to know for now."
Billy rolled his eyes, took a long drink, and shook his head. The door opened, and a few women came in with baskets of food, and one of them, seeing Robby, hurried over to greet him.
"Master Ribbon! We meet again!"
"Sally Bodwin!" Robby stood and bowed. "Here I am."
"An' lookin' something better than the last time we met, too."
"I should hope so."
"An' these are yer friends? I hear yer bound for Duinnor."
"That's right. Here, let me introduce you to them."
Ashlord she had met, and he greeted her kindly. Ullin and Billy bowed, and Billy would hardly take his eyes from her for the rest of the night. Ibin also made an effort to bow, but immediately went back to his fried potatoes.
When they came to the last person, who remained seated and somewhat hunched, Sally asked, "An' this is?"
"Pradkin," Sheila interrupted, making her voice strangely low and gravelly. She kept her head down and had pulled up her hood as soon as the women entered. "Mr. Ribbon's particular bodyguard." She took Sally's hand into her gloved one and gave it a hard shake, still keeping her head down.
"Oh!" Sally said as Robby gave his bodyguard an odd look. "I had no idea ye needed a bodyguard."
"I don't actually need one," Robby said as he guided Sally away, shooting a puzzled look at Sheila. "But he's an old friend and a might strange in his ways. Somewhat attached to me, in an odd kind of way."
Sheila kept an eye on Robby and Sally as they moved across the room, Sally rubbing her arm and glancing back with a frown. Billy, too, looked after them as they pulled up stools at the bar.
"What was that all about?" he asked Sheila. But he was not inclined to hear her answer, so intent on Sally was he, and Sheila was not inclined to answer, anyway. Ibin, meanwhile, had absorbed himself in the food that was being laid out, and between "Thankyouthankyouthankyou," was snatching up bits of cheese, roast beef, and applecakes.
Ashlord and Ullin sat back down and neither ate enthusiastically, each in their own thoughts while Makeig excused himself again to look after more of his affairs. The tavern's business picked up and soon it was fairly crowded, in spite of Makeig's prediction, though most of the folk merely came in and after chatting with the barkeep, left soon after. Not before they had given the strangers a good once or twice over. Some greeted them by nodding their heads or tipping their wide colorful hats. Indeed, though the local people seemed well off—for none were ill-dressed—the travelers overheard snatches of ordinary talk about cows, crops, and weather. They were well-spoken, and the thick accent of the Tracian coast was pronounced by most of them. Ashlord's attention landed on one gentleman who was dressed in a dark coat of blue velvet and knee-high boots, a cocked matching blue hat with a white plume reaching from it, and a white blouse with frilly ruffles. He stood, one foot on the bar, one hand lifting a tankard while the other rested on the pommel of a sword hanging at his waist. It happened that their eyes met just as the man finished his draught, and, without taking his eyes from Ashlord, he put his tankard down and approached.
"I take it you are the one called Ashlord?" he asked.
"I am."
"I am Ramund Drayworth, late of Tracia, too long of Hill Town," he bowed. "I welcome you to our little community. I am the sheriff of this place and make it my business to look to any strangers that happen through."
Ashlord smiled neutrally while Ullin coolly studied the man's outfit.
"Mayhaps you are only passing through?" Drayworth asked.
"Yes, on our way west."
"West? Surely Hill Town is out of your way from Barley?"
"We come from Janhaven," said Ullin. "Perhaps you have not heard that Barley has fallen?"
"And you might be?"
"Ullin Saheed Tallin. And these are my companions."
"Ah, one of the Fairoak amongst us!" Drayworth grinned and bowed again. "An elf-blood, a wise man, a few Barleymen, and," he looked askance at Ibin, "a man of modest intellect, though prodigious appetite, I must observe. We are most honored by your visit, indeed. As for Barley, yes, we have all heard. And we know you come from Janhaven. Yet, out of the way it still seems for a westward trek. Yes, we have heard about the battle at Passdale and the refugees at Janhaven. But do the Redvests press you so that you cannot take the west road from there?"
"The west road be blocked by warlords," Billy stated, having taken an instant dislike to the fellow. "An' the north passes'll be covered by ice before we could reach 'em."
"You have not traveled westward very much, I think," Ullin added.
"No. No, I have not," Drayworth said as he drew up a stool. With a sweep of his coat and his scabbard, he sat at the end of the table, picking over the applecakes until he found a little one to his liking, daintily holding it to his mouth with two fingers. "I have had no need, and I lack the desire to go west," he said, nibbling. "My heart lies to the south and east."
"Are ye one of Makeig's crewmen?" Billy asked.
"That ragtag ruffmuffian rabble? I sincerely hope you are not serious."
Billy shrugged.
"I am the nephew of the Duke of Sharlofiorn, Prince Lantos, and how I came to be mere sheriff of this place is a sorry tale I'll not bore you with. But we have done well for ourselves here, don't you think? It is not easy to be out of one's place, as you are learning. Do you think your people will do as well, eh?"
"We don't mean to wait long enough to find out," Billy shot back. "Yer countrymen will learn a thing or two 'bout messin' with Barleyfolk!"
"That is our intention," Ullin said bluntly.
Drayworth shook his head and took a tiny bite of the cake he had been waving about.
"Tsk, tsk," he said, producing a handkerchief with a flourish and daubing the corners of his mouth. "Duinnor will not help you. Why would they bother? Did they come to our aid? Did they send a single sword? Not even Glareth came, except to rescue some of my kin, and rather late in the game, at that."
As he spoke, he attempted to lower his head enough to see under Sheila's hood by letting his feet slide away under the table and slouching down on his stool with as much nonchalance as he could muster, but with an obvious and uncomfortable attention to balance as the seat of the stool ran into the small of his back.
"And now look what has happened," he went on. "The Red Tyrants spread their villainous empire. Allow me to share a thing or two about losing your country: First, you learn that you cannot count on all your countrymen."
He reached for another piece of applecake, but he did not lift it. Instead, he bent his head sideways very close to the table as if to examine it carefully, trying very hard to see under Sheila's hood as he continued to speak.
"Many are taken in by the glory of the new order, drunk with new-found power and position that they could never otherwise deserve or hope for. Second, if you oppose your conqueror, you do so at the loss of land, love, and friends, for he will have them all in his purse or else in their grave. And last, your enemy is as much those who have broken their promises to help as it is those who attack you. No, no. Go west if you must. Find out for yourselves."
At this point, he nearly slipped off the stool, but he deftly straightened back up, giving up his attempt to view the hooded one.
"The sooner you get accustomed to the idea that you are on your own, the sooner you will form new alliances, and the sooner you will begin to rebuild your strength. Do you think this town is a permanent place for us? No, there is not one amongst us who was not born here who does not breathe for the day he stands on his own lands again."
Drayworth suddenly stopped himself.
"Ah! I said I would not bore you, and there! I have! I only mean to say that if it is fighting the Redvests you mean to do, there are many here who would likely join you. If for no other reason than to strike back at those who have wronged us."
"Captain Makeig has already given us assurances of that," Ashlord said smoothly. "But it is good to hear it from another."
Drayworth rose and bowed.
"So there," he said. "I bid you a good stay and a safe journey."
"We thank you," Ashlord said. "Good night."
Drayworth strode out of the tavern with Billy glaring after him.
"What a fop!" Billy snorted. "I think he gave me a headache!"
"That fop was the greatest swordsman in all of Tracia," Ullin said quietly, pulling apart a piece of bread. "And he has killed as many men in single combat with his blade as he has in battle, it is said."
"Aye," whispered one of the women who had leaned past Ullin to pour more ale into his tankard. "An' seventeen assassins have died in pursuit of him. So far as we're countin', that is. Four of 'em this year alone."
Billy huffed disbelievingly as he rubbed the side of his head near his recent wound.
• • •
While Drayworth held forth with his friends, Robby and Sally sat at the bar having their own conversation.
"Captain Makeig told me once that the Prince sent to Duinnor for help many years ago," Sally said, "tellin' the King through his envoys that his rule over Tracia would fail if Duinnor did not send help. Two years later, his prediction came true. Later, not long after Martin took over here, he, too, sent an envoy to Duinnor. In fact, the Blaney brothers went, along with three others."
"When was that?"
"Oh, let's see. About ten years ago, I think. But nuthin' came of it."
Sally looked sympathetically at Robby.
"I don't mean to put ye off yer hope," she added, touching his arm. "There's always a chance they'll listen to ye, an' that ye may convince them to act. Especially since Tracia seems set on movin' against its neighbors."
"Well, we must try," stated Robby, looking blankly into his near-empty tankard. More people had arrived, many in jovial moods. And with all the loud talk and laughter and clanking tankards, the noise of the place was such that Robby and Sally had to lean their heads close together to keep from shouting. A few of the patrons had taken up instruments, fiddle, pipes, and mandolin, and their jaunty tunes also filled the smoke-laden air.
"Come along, Sal," a nearby man called over. "Give us a song!"
This was followed by a chorus of encouragement and entreaties, until at last she rolled her eyes and nodded.
"Duty calls!" she said to Robby as she stood off her stool. "Perhaps I'll see ye again?"
"I hope so," answered Robby. She joined the musicians, and Robby moved back to the table with his comrades.
"She's very pretty," Sheila said as he sat on the bench between her and Billy.
"Not to worry," grinned Robby. "I know where my heart is!"
"I think I know where Billy's might be, too!" she commented, nudging Robby to look around. Billy's gaze was fixed upon Sally. "Poor thing. She hardly knows he exists. And, anyway, we'll be leaving soon."
The plucking of a dulcimer joined the other instruments, and soon a melancholy aire somewhat quieted the crowd as expectant heads turned to face Sally.
'He rode through the night on a pale gray horse,
Through the moonlit shadows of the forest-land,
Back to the house where his true love was,
Galloping swift with sword in hand,
To take her away,
To get her away,
To flee and away from the Redvest band.'
'The Redvest band marched through the hills
Sweepin' the villages with anger and hate,
An' made for the glen by the standin' stones,
To the house on the shore of the River Slate,
To take the rebel's love
To bind the rebel's love,
To use the rebel's love as their bait.'
The ballad went on, clearly a familiar one to most of the listeners, and it ended with a rousing climax describing how the two lovers escaped into the night before they could be captured. Near the end of the song, Ullin saw Makeig re-enter the tavern with two other men. They hung about near the door, respectfully allowing the song to end before Makeig gestured for Ullin.
"I believe our guides have arrived," Ullin said to Ashlord and nodded toward the door. The group rose and followed Ullin. Robby and Billy glanced over their shoulders at Sally who watched them leave amid the applause.
Outside the tavern, Makeig made introductions.
"This here're the Blaney brothers, Gargeoff an' Markum," Makeig said as they all shook hands.
The two brothers were tall, swarthy men, with an unusual combination of black hair and green eyes. They appeared almost as twins, though separated by two years, in their early forties, and were similarly dressed in the oddly stained riding cloaks common among the men hereabouts, cloaks meant to make them blend more readily with the forest. Though obviously tired and weary, with several days of beard, they were patient and good-natured.
"I apologize for keeping you from rest," Ashlord said to them. "I hope we may make it up to you someday."
"Martin tells us ye mean to go west by a southerly route," Markum Blaney said. "If ye manage to get Duinnor to send aid, where others have failed, that will be payment aplenty!"
"Your captain tells us that you two know the westward passes and byways best," Ullin said as they walked briskly to the Great House.
"We know them as well as any," Gargeoff Blaney replied. "In the Great House we have maps, an' we can better show ye an' tell ye what we know. But I must say it is a dangerous route. The passes are narrow, an' it is eas
y to get caught by the Damar what swarm the western side. I would not want to go west that way."
"How else would you go?"
Gargeoff shrugged.
"As for meself," Markum said as he pulled open the big oaken door of the Great House, "I'd rather go farther south, crossin' at the frontier between the Damar's southernmost territory an' closer to Masurthia."
"That is too close to the way the Tracian Redvests would take if they were to invade Masurthia," Ashlord said. "And I fear troop movements may already be taking place. And it is too far and too dangerous for friends of Duinnor."
"Friends of Duinnor!" Makeig huffed. "Duinnor should learn to be a friend!"
The brothers led the way into a large hall. Various pennants and tapestries hung, some depicting coastal scenes and others showing signs of battle-wear. The wooden beams were carved with seafaring motifs and various Tracian scripts, and at the far end of the room was a dais upon which an ornate chair sat.
"This is our meetin' hall," said Gargeoff, "where we hold court of justice, an' where our councils meet an' plan. Over here is our map room."
They were led through a side door into a smaller room in the center of which was a wide table. The room was walled in by several scroll shelves, and brightly burning lamps hung down over the table to illuminate its surface. Markum pulled out a chart and spread it across the table and pointed out where they were, southwest of Janhaven and nearly due north of Tallinvale.
"If ye left from here, ye could travel almost due west," he said. "With caution ye might make it through the passes an' safely out onto the plain beyond."
"But if ye plan on goin' from Tallinvale," Gargeoff took up, "ye'll be two days, at least, out of the way. We just returned from the western limits of Tallin territory, an' those parts are teemin' with Damar scouts an' patrols. "
"We think they make ready for some action," said Markum. "They're raidin' their own villages with press gangs, an' besides gettin' men for their army, they're takin' slaves an' provisions. A western path from Tallinvale would almost certainly take ye right into them, since Damar City, the warlord's stronghold, is that way."
The Nature of a Curse (Volume 2 of the Year of the Red Door) Page 10