Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) (27 page)

"With whatever it takes," Ehren had told her.

With whatever it takes
, Laine repeated to himself in the darkness, pretending his stomach hadn't tightened up at the thought.

Because Ehren had lost those two men in the market— and then then he'd followed them back to a rougher inn nearby. And now he was there, discussing the situation.

Discouraging them. Alone.

Laine navigated the dark, close streets of T'ieranguard and found the Trader's Choice with little trouble. He pushed the thick door open with trepidation, glad to discover a smoking candle lamp at the end of the bar. Light from a back room meant someone was up; probably the cook.

Laine drew his sword, his hand sweaty on the grip, and quietly found the steep, enclosed stairs to the second story, leaving those in the common room snoring and none the wiser.

Another flickering candle sent dancing light from the end of the narrow second story hall, picking out the edges of each doorway. No magic light glows in
this
inn. He stopped at each door, listening, wondering if he'd found the wrong inn after all and knowing there was no way to explain his presence.

He'd just about decided he'd gotten the wrong inn after all when he caught a murmured word; he held his breath and moved up closer to the doorway, straining his ears— and finally heard the familiar timbre of Ehren's smooth voice. There was nothing in that voice to suggest trouble, but Laine cracked the door and looked inside anyway.

Ehren knelt on the bed with two men, both of whom still lay there, stiff and uncomfortable. Ehren cast a quick, dark look over his shoulder, saw Laine, and jerked his head in a silent g
et in here
.

By then Laine realized Ehren wasn't sitting
with
the two men, but
on
one of them, straddling the man's stomach. The other lay crowded up against the wall; Ehren's sword rested against his throat, while his dagger pushed into the notch between the first man's collarbones.

"Shette was worried," Laine said, uneasy at the tension that permeated the room, and the rank smell of fear.

"No need for it," Ehren said. "These two drink too heavily, and sleep too heavily as well. We were just discussing their orders. Who gave them, their specific intent... that sort of thing." His voice, deliberately casual, held an edge of danger.

I shouldn't have come.
Hindsight was such a wonderful thing. Laine's sword felt awkward in his hand, but he left it there.

"There's no use to ask," the inner man said; his partner seemed more concerned with breathing under Ehren's weight to be chatty. "We can't tell you anything."

"Make an effort," Ehren said. "Because if you can't convince me you're going to stop following me, I'll kill you right here."

Laine winced. "Ehren, do you have to..."

"Stay out of this, Laine." Ehren's voice was pleasant on the surface and steel underneath.

"You wouldn't," the man said, but not with any certainty. "All we done is follow you. There ain't no great harm in that!"

"That's my call." Ehren's grim expression gave no reassurance. "Why don't you ask my friend if he thinks
I wouldn't
." Ehren nodded at Laine. "And keep your voice down while you're at it. I can cut your throat and still get my answers from your partner."

Laine struggled with his composure, sure that his horror showed on his face.
Ehren, swift and implacable with his sword, Ehren, fighting his way out of the triggered spell and grinning afterward…Ehren, disemboweling one of Shette's captors, taking the other from behind…

And walking away without looking back.

The man
did
look at Laine, as though to ask— but saw Laine's expression and swallowed hard instead. He tried to wiggle back away, but the wall stopped him.

"We can work something out—" His voice had gotten hoarse at the edges. A thin trickle of blood ran down his neck, dark in the grey dawn light.

Ehren leaned over the man, their faces only inches apart. His expression and voice were equally hard. "Don't waste my time."

Laine found himself suddenly sweating. "
Ehren—"

"Your orders," Ehren said, pinning the man with his piercing gaze, still only inches away. "And who's paying you."

"You don't understand," croaked the man beneath Ehren.

Ehren never turned away from the man against the wall, never turning down the intensity of his gaze. "Make your choice."

"We don't know— I mean, we're only to follow—"

"No, don't— !" his partner gasped.

Ehren snapped the ridge of his knuckles against the man's throat in a quick, decisive motion. While his partner choked, the fellow against the wall talked, and talked fast.

"We're only following you— and just until the boss is satisfied. We make our reports to—" His voice cut off, stopped from within as though by force. His eyes widened, frightened and imploring.

"I told you!" his partner managed to choke out. "
I told you— !
"

The man's mouth moved— useless attempts at speech. Ehren quickly lifted his sword away from the man's neck. And Laine, suddenly aware that his Sight tickled at him, made the effort to See the three men— and startled at the roiling red ugliness coalescing around the stricken man's chest. "Ehren!
Magic!
"

Ehren threw himself away from the bed, dragging his prisoner to the floor with him. "Watch him," he snapped at Laine, springing back to his feet with a speed that belied his still-healing injury.

Laine startled, and barely managed to get his sword into a position that would do the man some damage if he tried to move— or would at least make him think twice.

But there was no need. They all three had only one thing on their minds— even as the other man managed one last croaking gasp. Red foam streamed from his mouth in an unending froth; the man collapsed in upon himself, his chest sinking and his eyes bugged out and staring.

"Guides preserve us," his friend whispered, his hand at his nicked throat— and the other creeping toward his groin, where Laine's sword pointed.

"I think it's too late for that," Ehren said. He shook his head, expression grim, and handed his knife pommel first to Laine. "Cut up his pants and tie him with the scraps. It'll slow him down at least."

Hardly able to tear his eyes from the fading magic, Laine did as he was told. His captive no longer seemed interested in any kind of struggle— he lay on the floor, expression dulled and hopeless, while Laine divested him of his pants and cut them into long strips.

Ehren ran his hands over the husk of the dead man in a quick but efficient search. He came up with two daggers and a small purse, and he took them all. When Laine was done, he repeated the process with the securely tied captive.

Finally, he straightened. "We're leaving. Don't bother trying to follow. Now that I know you can't tell us anything, next time I see you, I'll just kill you right off."

The man shook his head, his fearful glance pinned to his partner. "No way you're gonna see me. There's not enough coin in the world to be worth
this
."

"Gag him," Ehren told Laine, and moved to the door. "It's time we left this city."

~~~~~

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"What happened?" Shette had asked, again and again. Laine only looked away.

Ehren eventually told her those particular men wouldn't follow them again, in tones short enough to end the questions.

But he wasn't at all certain there wouldn't be others. Powerful magic meant powerful intent…and no one wasted that much magic on a whim.

Which surely meant Ehren was more than just a nuisance.

More like a threat.

Ironically, he'd felt safer as soon as he'd entered Therand. Unlike Solvany, Therand was a land of subtle magics; the lore wove through everyday life. In Solvany, low-level cottage witchies like Erlya were the only sporadic signs of magic outside the colorful displays and dramatic healings of the higher levels, but here, the witchies were rife, and high magic would draw intense scrutiny. Varien— assuming Varien had been behind those two men in the first place— was unlikely to use it.

A few days into the quiet green pastures, they stopped outside a small village and waited for their fellow travelers, who— with their small donkey and footpace— slowed progress considerably. Shette and Laine traded off their ponies so all the travelers would have a turn to ride, and no one questioned why Ricasso and Shaffron weren't included in the offer. Ehren walked plenty, strengthening his leg…exhausting his healing body.

 They traveled through mild rolling country, first north and then west to parallel the Barrenlands; they moved into an area of woods and pastures, with small farmhouses along the road and sheep and shepherds in the fields. Ehren discovered horses that looked much like Shaffron; they had his fire, too, and snorted challenges from behind fenced paddocks, prancing back and forth as the travelers walked by.

Being with the friendly family seemed to set Shette at ease, and even Laine relaxed a little; his Dreams were gentle, and when Shette asked, he would say only that they were brief pieces of Dannel and Jenorah's courtship.

But Ehren, wearing a ring that vibrated its unhappiness against his chest, was ever reminded of the task he'd left undone, and of the puzzle pieces he was yet unable to put into place.

Two days before they closed in on the summer lands of Clan Grannor, the family broke away from Ehren's party. Laine, Shette and Ehren traveled faster then, and stayed their last night on the road in an inn.

And early the next day, they faced the standing stones of Clan Grannor.

The stones stood several stories high apiece, marking the borders of Grannor land. Shette hesitated before them, glancing to see if anyone would stop her as she slowly reached out to touch the closest stone, running her fingers over the deeply incised letters of the old Therand alphabet— lettering Ehren knew only enough to recognize. They moved through the stones with respect, and afterward, Laine turned and stared, his head tipped with the expression Ehren had grown to recognize.

He rested a hand on Shaffron's mane, the reins hanging loose. "What do you see?"

"I'm not sure. Something we
didn't
trigger, I think." Laine stared a moment longer, then turned his pony back to the road. "I'd like to know what happens if someone unfriendly goes through there."

"So we passed inspection, did we?" Ehren gave Shaffron's damp neck a pat. At midday, the heat was still oppressive, but high summer had passed them by and the evenings were cool and comfortable. He gave the stones another look. "I doubt it'll be the last inspection we have to pass."

With the stones behind them, Shette took on a dreamy expression. "This is where they met, Laine. This is where Mum and Da met, and where they fell in love. Isn't it perfect?"

Ehren thought it was just another stretch of hayfields and wood strips; Laine looked as though he might say the same.

Both were too wise to say so.

Off to the south, a stand of trees ran east and west. The road paralleled it, dipping slightly between the rolling hummocks. It was a good road— Ehren thought so, and Shaffron thought so, and Ricasso gave a little snort and skip that was as good as a request.

Laine must have picked up on the feeling, for he gave Ehren a glance and sent his small horse ahead in a canter, the mule trailing. Shaffron picked up the gait right away, Ricasso behind him. Shette cried, "Hey!" as she broke out of her dreamy state and realized she'd been left behind.

Shaffron put his excess good spirits into high-stepping movement, a rolling gait full of brio that nonetheless overtook Laine's pony. Ehren kept pace with him for a time— until they saw the three mounted figures coming to meet them. Without comment, Laine fell back, leaving Ehren to canter right up to them.

They came nose to nose, then, with all four horses chewing their bits and moving restlessly beneath their riders and Ricasso fidgeting behind. The riders turned out to be two men and a woman, all clad in the red and black colors of Grannor, all handsome and well turned-out. Their matching swords hung at precisely the same spot on each hip, and the riding gear shone spotlessly.

"Clan Grannor was not expecting visitors today," the woman said.

"Clan Grannor has visitors nonetheless." Ehren glanced back to see Shette and Laine approaching at a sedate walk.

She raised a fine eyebrow; she looked petite between the men, hale specimens both. "Visitors from afar, from your speech."

"But visitors who are very close to you, as well." Ehren reined Shaffron back a step as the woman's mount laid back its ears and stretched its neck to snap.

The woman murmured a chastisement to her horse. "Visitors," she said dryly, "who like to play games."

"On occasion." Ehren shrugged. "We'd be grateful for your escort to the keep."

"I'm sure," she said, in that same dry tone. "Much more grateful than an escort back to the stones, no doubt."

"Much," Ehren said, and grinned at her.

She allowed a faint smile, uninfluenced by her two disapproving comrades. "Son of Solvany," she said, "did you think to go unrecognized here?"

He spread his hands slightly, a capitulation of sorts.
I am what I am.
"Important news is important no matter its source. And my companions will be more to your liking, I think."

She looked beyond him, then, her chin raised and her dark eyes narrowed. Ehren didn't have to turn to know that Laine and Shette were right behind him, quiet on the spongy turf of the road. Shette's black mare gave a little whicker of greeting.

"These are Grannor's children," the woman said.

"More or less," Laine said, directly behind Ehren. "It's... complicated."

"Considering your accent, I would say so." She afforded Ehren another long glance and lifted her reins. "Follow us, then. You raise questions. I expect answers will be easier to get if we ply you with tea than demand them from your hard Solvan friend."