City of Jade (25 page)
Authors: Dennis McKiernan
Uncle Arley laughed but said nought.
“Oh, Pip,” said Binkton, “it’ll be fun.”
Pipper looked over at the eld buccan who had accompanied them into the Centerdell village. “Will it be fun, Uncle?”
“It was for me, back in the day,” said Arley.
The Red Coach pulled up in front of the way station, and Humans got out to stretch their legs and to relieve themselves and to have a drink and a bite to eat. As Warrows led fresh horses out from the stables to replace the team, the driver and one of his three footmen made ready for the exchange.
As to the passengers and coachmen, these were not the first Humans that Pipper and Binkton had seen, for the Red Coach regularly came through the Bosky, and Rood was a transfer point. Out from the town and to the northeast the Two Fords Road led toward Challerain Keep, and to the southeast the Tineway ran toward Caer Pendwyr, while due east the Crossland Road continued on to Stonehill and past. Back to the west lay the lands of Wellen and the realms beyond.
Even so, the sight of Humans was somewhat intimidating, being as they were nearly twice the height of the average Warrow. And Binkton and Pipper would be travelling with these tall beings, for at the request of Graden Finster, owner of the Black Dog Inn, these two buccen were heading southeasterly and beyond the Thornwall to the small town of Junction, there where the Tineway met the Post Road.
Noting the hesitance of Pipper, Uncle Arley said, “Pip, I’ve taught you and Bink all I know, and you’ll be a welcome sight to the onlookers, whether it be on the streets of a city or in an inn or on the stage of a theater. Seldom do Warrows show up in the cities, and so, if for no other reason, you two will be a novelty, just as I was. Why, I’ve performed in Hovenkeep and Rivers End and even Caer Pendwyr, as well as little hamlets and villages throughout much of the High King’s realms. Yet should your and Bink’s acts fail, Bink is a fine locksmith and you a tinker rare. If nothing else, you two can travel through the countryside, mending pots, sharpening scissors and knives, fixing lockboxes, and whatever else needs doing, and you have my old kit for such. Pip, you and Bink will be fine, and there’s a world out there awaiting. And the Black Dog will give you a small taste of what you’ll discover beyond the limits of the Barrier.”
Pipper sighed and said, “Well, I suppose you are right. I mean, folks in the Bosky seemed to like us, and perhaps those Outside will too.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Binkton, looking ’round at the two duffle bags and large case on the bed of the pony cart, the case iron gray with painted red and yellow and orange flames here and there licking up along its sides. “Now let’s get our things onto the coach.”
With a cluck of his tongue, Arley drove the two-wheeled carriage to the side of the Red Coach, and there one of the footmen tossed the young buccen’s duffles up to the man atop. But when the footman lifted the chest, he grunted in surprise and in a strained voice as he hoisted it up he called to the man atop, “Take care, Willam. I think this is filled to the brim with sheet iron.”
Pipper laughed and said, “Not iron, but chains and locks, ropes and pulleys and other such tackle, along with mending gear.” The footman looked at the Warrows and frowned in puzzlement, as if wondering what such equipment was for.
The coach remained awhile to allow the continuing passengers to take care of their needs, and the new passengers to lade their luggage atop, but finally the driver called for all to get aboard. With final hugs from Uncle Arley, both Warrows passed in among the Humans, who simply towered over the wee buccen—dark-haired Binkton standing three-feet-six, fair-haired Pipper three-feet-four—and they climbed into the coach and took seat.
“H’yup, h’yup,” cried the coachman, “hup, my boys,” and with the eight horses pulling, slowly the great stage got under way. It rumbled southeasterly out of Rood along the road to Tine Ford.
The Red Coach itself was huge, and divided by a partition into two sections, with seating for eighteen passengers. And Pipper and Binkton found themselves in the aft half and sitting in between two large men, with two more men and a matronly woman across from them. The woman, her dress seemingly mostly ruffles and bows, leaned forward and said, “Why, aren’t you two just the cutest of things?”
Binkton sighed, but Pipper said, “Why, yes, madam, yes, we are.”
Batting her eyes, the matron asked, “And just what would you two children be doing travelling all alone in the great wide world?”
“Ch-children?” sputtered Binkton. “Children? Madam, I’ll have you know my cousin here is a young buccan, just turned twenty summers of age, while I am his senior by three moons or so.”
“Twenty?” she exclaimed, taken aback. “Twenty, you say?”
“These are Warrows,” said the man to the buccen’s left. “Heroes of the War of the Ban, the Winter War, and the Battle of Kraggen-cor, and they served with distinction in the Dragonstone War.”
The lady’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, my, you did all that?”
“Well, not us personally,” said Pipper. “But our cousin Trissa Buckthorn served under two High Kings—Garon and then his son Ryon—during the War of the Dragonstone, to say nothing of our ancestor Beau Darby, who fought beside High King Blaine in the Great War of the Ban.”
“Goodness, I did not know that,” said the woman. “Nor did I know of . . . what do you call yourselves? Warrows? Yes, Warrows. I don’t believe we have any Warrows in the city of Lindor on the Isles of Gelen.”
“Not many of us travel beyond the bounds of the Boskydells,” said Pipper.
“Nor beyond the fringes of the Weiunwood,” added Binkton.
The matron frowned. “The Weiunwood?”
“Over by Stonehill,” said Binkton, gesturing to the east. “A shaggy old forest caught between the realm of Rian to the north and the land of Harth to the south.”
“I say,” said the man who had come to their defense, “I’m Raileigh Bains, a historian, and I’m travelling to the libraries in Caer Pendwyr to write a definitive account of the Dragonstone War. If you don’t mind, perhaps you could supply me with some details about the Warrows who served under the High King during that terrible time.”
“Wull, we all serve under the High King,” said Binkton, “but I suppose you mean the Company of the King.”
“Cousin Trissa was the captain of that company,” said Pipper. “Forty-three Warrows, archers all, who rode to the High King when summoned. What would you like to know?”
The man pulled a case out from under the seat and opened it. It contained a great number of blank sheets of parchment, and to one side a stoppered inkwell sat snugly in a small partition affixed to a corner, and along the other side in their own partition rested a number of sharpened quills. Raileigh took up parchments and flipped down a writing board and un-stoppered the ink and dipped a quill and said, “I’m ready when you are.”
Pipper turned to Binkton. “Where should we begin? The Gjeenian penny?”
Binkton shook his head. “No, that starts back in the Great War of the Ban, when Tipperton Thistledown helped the dying prince.”
“Then how about when Tuck and Danner and Patrel first got the armor?”
“Oh, I know,” said Binkton, “we’ll start when the specter of Aurion Redeye appeared to Trissa and Kipley and Danby.”
“That’s Trissa Buckthorn and Kipley Larkspur and Danby Candle-wood,” said Pipper to Raileigh.
“Who’s telling this tale,” flared Binkton, “you or me?”
“Why, you are, Bink. I’m just trying to help.”
Before Binkton could reply, with her eyes wide in trepidation the matron leaned forward and asked, “Did you say the specter of Aurion Redeye, the High King of ancient days? His ghost appeared? His true ghost?”
“Indeed,” said Binkton, glaring at Pipper, who himself had begun to answer.
As Pipper fell silent the woman gasped, “Oh, my,” and, seemingly to stave off a swoon, she fell back in her seat and fanned herself with her fingers.
Binkton turned to the historian and said, “You’ll recall that Aurion Redeye was the High King at the start of the Winter War, a thousand years ago. And some seven years back his ghost appeared to Trissa and Kipley and Danby, for he was redeeming a pledge made long past. . . .”
Raileigh Bains’ pen scratched across the parchment, while Binkton and Pipper took turns telling the tale of the Warrow Company of the King: how it was first formed, how Tuck and Danner and Patrel came to be wearing, respectively, the silver, black, and gold armor, and the terms of the loan of that armor Aurion Redeye made. Then the buccen told of Redeye’s shade’s visitation a thousand years later to redeem that loan, and how, to retrieve the black armor, Trissa and Kipley and Danby travelled to the distant tombs out before the dreaded Iron Tower in the fearful land of Gron. Following that, they told of the trio returning to the Bosky to take command of the Company of the King, and then on to the Argon Ferry, where they and the High King’s Host were defeated in the battle at that place.
The passengers were held spellbound, for both Binkton and Pipper knew the story well, and as they told of the retreat and the coming of the Dragons, the Red Coach continued to rumble on toward the distant ford across the River Spindle.
Some ten leagues south of Rood the coach made a stop at a way station to change teams, and then some ten leagues after that and late in the evening they stopped at the Wayside Inn for an overnight stay, the inn located at the junction where the spur road to Thimble meets the Tineway. The Warrow-run establishment on the Red Coach line had rooms suitable for travellers of all sizes, and was as well the place where the coach would again change teams.
When Denby Willowdell saw Binkton and Pipper enter his establishment, he welcomed them warmly, for oft had these two performed at the Wayside Inn, and he asked if they’d come for a stint.
“Ar,” said Binkton in response, “we’d like to stay and put on a show, but you see we’re expected at the Black Dog down at Junction Town two days hence.”
“Beyond the Thornwall?”
“Aye,” said Pipper. “Uncle Arley arranged it with Mr. Graden Finster.”
“You’ll like Graden,” said Denby. “He’s a good sort and honest as the day is long.”
Pipper grinned. “What about at night?”
Denby laughed and said, “Oh, he’s fair the night long, too.”
“Well, then,” said Pipper, “there’s also dawn and twilight to consider, for they are neither day nor night.”
All three Warrows broke into laughter, and Denby threw an arm about each and said, “Ah, me, but I’ve missed you two buccoes, and I’m sorry you’ll not be staying a day or so. But be that as it may, come on, let me buy you a drink.”
Two evenings later found Pipper and Binkton thirty-three leagues farther along their route. They were ensconced at the Tineway Inn in the village of Stickle, there near the Thornwall.
Looking about, Raileigh asked, “And this is where the Company of the King assembled and waited for the Gjeenian penny?”
Pipper nodded. “Yup. And it came on First Yule.”
“What’s all this business about a Gjeenian penny?” asked the matron, Mrs. Harper. “I thought Gjeenian money was nearly worthless, and a Gjeenian penny the most worthless coin of all.”
“Well, you see, back in the Great War of the Ban,” said Binkton, “Tipperton Thistledown took on a mission from a wounded prince to deliver a Gjeenian penny to Agron. He didn’t know who or what Agron was, and his only instruction was to go east. But the prince died before he could tell Tipperton more.”
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