"He departs within the fortnight."
"Hm. So still the same plan?"
"Unless you bring him word to do otherwise, yes."
"And every place on this list?"
"Yes. Others have had a close look, last year. Just a glance is all that's needed, I'd say. You be the judge. I must go. I have my own business to attend. Good bye, Captain Pargolis."
"Good bye, Toradatis."
The conversation ended and Ullin leaned his head back against the wall, hoping for just a little more rest. He dozed, his head back, facing the ceiling and snoring lightly, all to the amusement of the serving girls who passed by. Customers continued to depart for their ships or their businesses, and the tavern became quieter as they did so. The man behind Ullin, the one called Pargolis, remained, swilling his steady refills, growing all the more discontented with his previous conversation.
Meanwhile, Ullin dreamed of a faraway land, a lonely and vast expanse. He stood alone, watching wind-driven dust pile into dunes. He slowly became anxious, conscious of being in the open, a conspicuous figure against the light-colored sand. Suddenly a hard bump behind him jarred him awake. The man behind him was now laughing. Ullin frowned, rubbing his neck and shifting on his bench to reposition his head for further sleep. Glancing at the clock, he saw that more than two hours had passed, and the tide indicator pointed down. The girl had failed to wake him.
Scrambling off his bench, he hurried to the door and was nearly at it, checking his anger at the serving girl, when he heard a squeal from behind him. With his hand on the latch, he turned to see the very same girl trying to twist away from Pargolis, her wrist caught in his grip as he groped his arm around her waist. Ullin looked at the door, sighed, then turned around and walked toward the struggling pair. Now the man was standing and bending over the girl as she freed herself and stumbled away in tears. As Pargolis staggered after her, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he caught Ullin's fist with his jaw, the blow knocking him backwards against a table then onto the floor.
"Go," Ullin said to the girl. "Tell the barkeep what happened, and don't come back."
"Thank you," she said, hurrying off. Ullin went back to the door and had it open when a dagger flew past his head and lodged into the doorframe. He swung around just as Pargolis plowed into him. Ullin threw up his hand at the dirk now swiping at him, catching the man's wrist against his own, and the two tumbled out into the street and right into a foursome coming into the tavern, knocking two of them down. Ullin swung his attacker away, and managed to get at his dagger and draw his sword before the man came back at him with his own weapons drawn. Seeing the Kingsman insignia on Ullin's tunic, Pargolis hesitated, then spat blood from his mouth.
"I should have guessed," he said, coming at Ullin. "Kingsmen never know when to mind their own business, nor when to keep their hands to themselves."
"You are one to speak," Ullin shot back, "having been so rude with your own."
It was then that Ullin realized that the men they had collided with were all Tracians, like Pargolis, and they, too, were picking themselves up, gathering around, and drawing weapons. Two of them were armed with light, fast rapiers while the rest had sabres. Ullin's standard-issue gladius was outmatched, regardless of his skill, and he glanced past them down the lane toward the docks. Now they were in his way.
"Pargolis," one of the men said, "who's this we're about to skewer?"
"Just another Duinnor bastard," Pargolis said as the men came on.
Ullin parried Pargolis's drunken sword-stroke with his long-bladed dagger and caught the swipe of the dirk on his sword pommel, knocking the short blade from Pargolis's hand. In counterstroke, Ullin then cracked his pommel on his attacker's chin.
"I'd love to stay and teach you better manners," Ullin said, "but I have a boat to catch!"
With that, Ullin charged, parrying and jabbing, wounding two before he was through them, running as fast as he could for the docks. Before he was ten feet away, a thrown sword caught him on the ankles and tripped him. Ullin went down hard, and they were upon him in an instant. Rolling over, steel rang against the cobblestones beside his head, a thrust caught his cloak, while a boot kicked his ribs. Somehow, he managed to avoid their slashes, and, swinging his sword to clear the way, he got to his knees, slashing and lunging. One man went down when Ullin's dagger plunged through his thigh, but now the two he had previously wounded were at him along with Pargolis, swinging hard. Ullin threw his dagger, but Pargolis dodged and it flew instead into the eye of the man behind. Ullin got to his feet, slashed, and ran.
"You coward!" one of the men shouted. Ullin fled, desperate to get to the docks and to the Sea Arrow, realizing that if the ship had cast off he was running to a dead end. He made the corner and turned. A dagger clipped his elbow and another stuck in his calf. Ullin careened in pain, crashing against a pushcart. He grabbed it for support and reached down to jerk out the dagger. Whirling around, he ducked as a sabre chopped into the cart and got stuck. Ullin shot his sword into the man's chest, grabbed the sabre, and kicked the dead man into the other men coming up.
Now it was a fight. Ullin staggered, limping and ducking and weaving, parrying and slashing with sabre and gladius, moving backwards as he fought down the wharf toward the berth which, he saw, was now empty. Too busy for disappointment, he put his mind to the task at hand, dispatching another man. Pargolis somehow got close enough to punch Ullin in the side, but received in turn Ullin's kick to his groin. During this, Ullin saw, not twenty yards off the end of the dock, and moving slowly under tow by a boat of rowers, the Sea Arrow. Its sails were being hoisted, making for the open sea. Ullin threw another punch and ran in spite of his uncooperative wound. Holding both weapons in one hand, he pulled off his cloak as he ran. Suddenly turning, he threw it into the face of the man just behind him, then shot the sabre through his shoulder. He swung wildly at Pargolis with his gladius. The Tracian ducked the swipe but could not avoid Ullin's kick behind his knee. As Pargolis fell, Ullin blocked another sword thrust from his partner and kicked him in the chest, knocking him over Pargolis, still on his hands and knees. Ullin ran a little farther, sheathing his gladius, then, turning, he threw the sabre at his pursuers, who broke their stride to dodge the whirling steel.
"We've got him now," said Pargolis, coming on. "He's nearly at the end of the wharf."
But Ullin did not slow down or hesitate when he reached the end, diving over the side. Coming up, he swam for the receding ship, struggling against the weight of his shoulder bag, oblivious to the daggers and swords splashing around him. He could not hear the shouts of the sailors at the stern of the Sea Arrow who had seen the melee and now cheered Ullin on, nor the jeers and curses of those ashore. Ullin's clothes were too heavy, the shoulder bag like a millstone, his sword an anchor, and he was too exhausted to reach the ship. Somewhere above him, over his failing strokes and clumsy splashes, and through his water-filled ears came strident calls and shouted orders, the noise of sails beginning to snap as they caught air, and the rushing gurgle of a stern wave. Suddenly Ullin felt a shape, a rope in his fingers. He got his hands on it, but it slid through his grip until it came to the large knot at the trailing end. He was immediately pulled forward so violently that he nearly lost his hold, seawater shooting down his mouth and nose as he was dragged through the water. He came up for air, gasping and coughing, now almost skimming across the surface. Abruptly, he banged against the hull, spun around in the wake, and banged again, once more nearly losing his grip. He heard a splash, and then another, and felt hands pushing and shoving, tugging at his tunic and pulling his arms.
"Get that line around him afore we all drown!" someone bellowed in his ear as a rope was being shoved around and under his arms.
"We've got ye! We've got ye!"
"Haul away!"
A few moments later, hoisted up and over the side, Ullin was sprawled on his back, violently coughing out seawater while his two dripping rescuers got the ropes off their catch.
&n
bsp; "Nicely done, men," Ullin heard someone calmly say. "Nicely done, indeed."
"Thank ye, Captain."
Blinking water from his eyes, Ullin looked up at the ship's captain standing over him with crossed arms.
"Commander Tallin, I presume?"
Ullin, still coughing, only managed to nod.
"You're late."
Chapter 10
A Soft Nudge
Day 22
223 Days Remaining
Five and a half days later, the Sea Arrow made port at Glareth by the Sea, delivering its passenger, Commander Ullin Saheed Tallin, and his important dispatches to the Ruling Prince of Glareth Realm. Ullin spent the rest of the day conferring with Ruling Prince Carbane concerning the news within those dispatches. The next day, Ullin traveled to a village not ten miles south where his mother lived in a cottage on the bluffs overlooking the sea. Though mother and son were happy to see each other, it was a sad visit, overall, for Ullin. His mother, Lady Sharyn, was in decline, confusing the years, sometimes asking after Ullin's father, whom Ullin barely remembered and was long dead. The next day, he bade a tender farewell to his mother and returned to Glareth by the Sea to attend to his business there. The morning after that, he departed in the company of Prince Danoss, Carbane's son, heading south on horseback to Formouth on the northern shores of Lake Halgaeth. It would be a long ride of some twenty days, during which time, the Kingsman and the young Glarethian prince would become well-acquainted.
While Ullin and Prince Danoss traveled in the eastern world, far, far away in the west, in Duinnor Realm, and just outside the city for which the realm was named, Raynor impatiently slogged up the long high stairs to the Temple. It was a warm day and clear, but he did not stop even once to look back over his shoulder at the city in the distance across the valley, nor had he slowed his determined stride one bit since the gates were at last thrown open at dawn. On the uncanny night, three weeks ago, when all of the bells of the land were set ringing, filling the land with alarm, the city gates were hurriedly closed, and all of the city's inhabitants were barred from leaving, regardless of the urgency of their business. Frustratingly, it was only a few hours after Tyrin arrived to inform Raynor that his charge had been safely delivered to the Temple, just as Raynor had instructed. Raynor paid the mercenary, and when asked, informed Tyrin that he would be going to see the lady first thing in the morning. And, no, there was no need for Tyrin to accompany him. Now, Raynor wished he had gone immediately to see Esildre, and for the past week and fortnight, he paced and fumed at his error. But when the announcement was made that the gates would be reopened to traffic, and all would return to normal, Raynor was amongst the first to pass through them, hurrying out across the valley toward the mountaintop Temple of Beras.
"No doubt she is as anxious to see me as I am her," he now commented to Beauchamp, who was peeking out of Raynor's shoulder bag with all the caution that an uncomfortable rabbit can express. "Yet," Raynor went on, "with all the commotion these past weeks, I wouldn't be surprised if she has given up on me and departed."
As he climbed the last few hundred steps, he saw her standing above, waiting for him on the temple portico. She was dressed in plain robes and sandals such as those that some of the monks wore, but no monk ever made them look as attractive as she did. When he was in easy speaking distance, he addressed her.
"It is good to see you again," he said.
"And you, at last."
"I know! I know! It has been a long three weeks, full of anxiety. But the gates were just opened this morning."
He finally made it to the uppermost landing, and bowed. She nodded, somewhat coolly.
"It is just the two of you," she commented.
"Yes. Beauchamp insisted on coming along. Were you expecting someone else?"
"No. I suppose not."
She wanted to ask after Tyrin. Instead, she steeled herself for the conversation that was about to take place.
"Hm. Well, I suppose we should get right to it, then. Perhaps we might avail ourselves of one of the gardens?"
She led on, though Raynor knew his way around the Temple grounds as well as any.
"I hope your stay here has been pleasant, at least," he said as they entered the great building and turned down the first of many passages and hallways.
"Yes. I must admit at first I was very anxious. The monks were, too. Night and day for seven nights and days they chanted and fasted and chanted. And there was much coming and going, since many people sought refuge here during the crisis. Once things calmed down, I did, too. And I have rather enjoyed the freedom granted to me, to roam without care, to be at my ease. To not be guarded in my manners or actions. I can't say that I've had a more peaceful fortnight in centuries. If ever."
"I was hoping as much for you. Though I should have come right away," Raynor confessed. "That is, as soon as I knew you were here. I thought you might like your night's rest, after such an arduous journey. It was my intention to set out from the city the very next morning. Little did I know what was about to happen!"
"What did happen? What made all of the bells ring like that? I certainly felt, at first, some looming catastrophe was upon the world."
"I would rather not guess," Raynor shrugged as they dodged a group of monks coming down the hall with large baskets of vegetables. "But surely only a powerful enchantment may do such a thing, the likes of which the world has not witnessed since before the First Age, at least."
They at last exited into a small garden at the southern side of the Temple, and found a secluded place amongst ancient fruit trees and thick roses bushes. Raynor put his shoulder bag down beside a bench so that Beauchamp could hop about and explore while he and Esildre had their discussion.
"I am truly glad to see you, dear Esildre." Raynor gestured to the bench and after she sat, so did he. "And I should add that, in spite of what you may believe, I never once gave up my hopes for you."
"Thank you, Raynor. It is good to see you, too. There is so much to talk about. Perhaps I should first tell you that my existence over the past long time has been, as you probably know, quite sordid and full of shame. I tried to change things, but could not change what I am."
"I know you think so. Yet, you did begin the change. Long ago when you forbade visitors to your estate. When you sought isolation rather than continued depravity and debauchery. Forgive me if I speak frankly. I do know all about those years before you stopped receiving guests at Elmwood Castle."
Esildre gazed at Raynor with appreciation.
"I do not mind forthright words from you," she said. "And I am not surprised at your knowledge of my acts. Yes, I did try to withdraw. But the Lord of Shadow still has his way with me, and his curse is as potent now as ever it was."
"I do not think so," Raynor smiled. "Not as potent, else you would never have fought against it. And surely that is what you were doing, fighting against it, when you closed your estate to outsiders and brought into your service only the blind. It was a beginning. And in all the years since, you continued to fight against the curse Secundur laid upon you. Elsewise, you would have thrown open your doors and sent forth your invitations as you once did."
"Perhaps. I was often tempted. Out of boredom. Out of loneliness."
"Yet you have not done so."
"No."
"And when you gave those hapless travelers refuge from the ravages of winter, lo those many years ago, it was they who committed crimes against you and your servants, not the other way around. That you slew them, one way or another, was understandable."
"How do you know about that?"
"Your servants may be blind," Raynor smiled again, "but they are not without wit or wile. Your ferryman delivers letters not just to you, but also to a certain old friend of mine who long ago took up residence in your hall, and who, among other things, tends to your wine cellar."
"Do you mean old Garson? A friend of yours?"
"Who do you think suggested that he seek employment with you? It was a sha
me he lost his sight, a terrible accident, and yet he was too proud to accept my charity and my support. Yes. He wanted to earn his way, as he has always done, and he did not wish to burden his family in Vanara. So I sent him your way."
"You old trickster! So you have been spying on me!"
"Not at all! Garson cares for you, as do all those in your household. It was he who wrote to me, asking what might be done for you, to alleviate your suffering. And thus began our correspondence. I only encouraged him to be faithful and patient."
"Oh. Oh, my goodness."
Esildre looked away in thought. She slowly shook her head, appreciating those she left behind as she never had before. The young maidservant who begged her not to end her life. The old ferryman who diligently and skillfully went back and forth across her lake on all manner of business. And Garson, the butler and chamberlain of her castle. Only since leaving her castle was she truly beginning to understand their loyalty to her, and her own affection for them.
"I suppose we should discuss matters more at hand," she said softly, not wishing to appear sentimental.
"Of course."
"The man who murdered my brother. What is his name?"
"Bailorg Delcorman is his name."
"And what do you know about him?"
"I have made inquiries. Discreetly and privately. Publicly, he is known to be a man of business. He owns the controlling liens on leases throughout Vanara, but hides them within the ledgers of a counting house here in Duinnor. He is Elifaen, though his partners who own the counting house are Men. My informant within their firm tells me that they do not know how he came by his fortune. Yet he finances their speculations, and arranges for them to handle leases and liens as he directs. Further inquiries among certain Elifaen in the city revealed that his ties with your father are very close, indeed. I have a friend in the Palace who tells me that he has been seen, off and on, for as long as anyone can remember, in the company of your father, Lord Banis, or in his chambers. Bailorg comes and goes from the Palace without question. And I discovered that, last year, Bailorg displayed a letter bearing your father's seal so that he and those in his company would be unhindered during their travels. Much the same as letters that court dignitaries and ambassadors carry abroad. Shortly afterwards, Bailorg traveled alone to Vanara. There he disappeared for a time, then he reappeared back here in Duinnor in the company of several mercenaries before departing for the east."
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