Hunted (Book 3) (27 page)

“I knew who
you
were the moment I saw your face peering at me from the dark,” she explained. “Probably wouldn’t have let you in, otherwise.”

Gen shook his head, chagrined. “You must have seen me in person to have crafted this so well.”

“Harry took us to Mikmir to see the Chalaine and the Ha’Ulrich ride out for Elde Luri Mora. I saw you on your horse next to the First Mother. Your face was . . . unforgettable. No offense.”

“None taken,” Gen said. “Has no news of what happened on the Shroud Lake shard reached this far?”

“If you mean that bit about you being the Ilch and being dead, then yes, it has. Set your mind at ease. Most folks couldn’t believe it, and when you showed up at my door alive and running around on a leg you aren’t supposed to have, then I just figured I was right about you. I have an eye for people, Lord Blackshire, and even if I had never heard one of those astounding stories of your bravery, I would have known what kind of man you are.”

“I thank you for your trust.”

She nodded. “Your companions I do not remember, however.”

“Let me introduce you. The one by the fire is Gerand Kildan, a prince of Tolnor and a Dark Guard. The one on the floor is Volney Torunne, a Rhugothian and son of General Torunne. He is also a Dark Guard. These two have supported me in my recent difficulties.”

Lena wrung her hands. “Such distinguished company for a poor widow such as myself! I am sorry if you find my care a little more humble than you are used to.”

To Gen’s surprise, Volney spoke, voice thick with emotion, if a bit sleepy. “After what we have passed through, dear lady, you are Eldaloth’s own daughter, and this is Erelinda. Your face will always be the most beautiful to me.”

Lena blushed, and Gerand raised his eyebrows.

Tolliver pulled on Gen’s leg and handed him the lizard carving. “You be the lizard. I’ll be the falcon. You try to eat Bolger, and I’ll stop you!”

After one week of healing and horrible weather, the sun finally broke through the oppressive gray wall and streamed down to the blinding, pure white snow. The air warmed slightly, snow melting gradually. Another week passed before Gen thought they could attempt to resume their trip.

During the long wait, Gen discovered another skill that Volney possessed besides swordfighting, one at which he was a complete master—entertaining children.

Gen’s role as Tolliver’s playmate ended almost as soon as Volney could sit upright again, at which point Gen found himself sitting with Gerand and Lena at the table laughing at Volney’s antics. Under Volney’s hand, the toothy lizard developed a hankering for boy-flesh, and Tolliver yelped and laughed so much that it became infectious. While Gen pitched in with the occasional song and practiced tales, he envied his companion’s skill at inventing ridiculous, impromptu stories, using the carvings as props.

More than once Gen found Lena’s eyes on Volney, glowing with appreciation, and often she would join Volney and Tolliver in their fun.

“You know,” Gerand commented, “if Volney could be as at ease with women as he is with children, he might do better.”

“I think he has found a woman he is at ease with,” Gen remarked, Gerand nodding thoughtfully.

When they announced their intention to go, Tolliver burst into tears and Lena’s face darkened and fell, though she tried to hide it.

“How much is your rent for this place?” Volney asked as they donned their gear.

“One copper a month.”

“How much do we have left, Gen?”

Gen had spent part of the idle days using Trysmagic to create silver coins, and he produced a coin pouch and set it on the table. “That should keep your landlord off your back—and hopefully off the premises—for some time.”

Lena crossed to the table, face suspicious, and pulled open the coin purse.

“I wish you wouldn’t. . .” Gen objected a little too late.

Lena’s eyes bloomed with disbelief. “This is too much! I could
buy
this place with this and have enough left over to eat like a Queen for years!”

“Sounds like a worthy plan,” Volney said, taking her hand and kissing it. “You have done us so much good, we could never truly repay what we owe.”

“Will you come back?” Tolliver asked, face cloudy.

Volney stooped and smiled. “Of course! By the time I return, I’m sure Lizard will be starved and need a huge helping of Tolliver!” He playfully poked the boy’s ribs and stood, eyes sad. “Farewell!” he said, leaving quickly to hide his emotion.

They retrieved the horse from the mine and set out on the snowy lane, Lena waving to them from the open door, Tolliver in her arms. Volney glanced back at the humble house several times before it disappeared from view.

“I think Volney might actually come back here someday. More than a toothy lizard has captured his interest, I’d wager,” Gerand teased.

Volney’s face turned uncharacteristically serious. “I will come back here, and I don’t want to hear any teasing from you two about it. Do not ruin this for me. Just let me enjoy this little dream of mine before I get killed in Ironkeep.”

Only the snow and mud complicated their journey to Nowain, and in two days’ time they approached the small city Torbrand had directed them to. It was situated on a flat plain peppered by enormous oaks, and, like Tell, the city center itself consisted of a few buildings that serviced nearby farmsteads.

“Where did Torbrand say to go?” Gerand asked as they approached late on a cloudy afternoon.

“He told me to inquire after the rat catcher, who is, apparently, a Portal Mage on an Aughmerian payroll,” Gen answered. “They sneak spies into Rhugoth through here.”

“How does he get away with that?” Volney asked, outraged. “The Portal Guild would shut off access to all of Aughmere if they found out!”

“Just think of what Unification means to the Portal Guild, Volney,” Gerand explained. “For now, they are a necessity. If Portals do still exist after Unification, they become a convenience. Portal Mages won’t want to make enemies now for fear of offending potential future customers who will have other options.”

As they neared town, they concealed their swords beneath their long cloaks to avoid suspicion. The road through town remained deserted as they passed a smithy’s house, the forge cold. A meaty-faced man cracked a shutter as they walked by, closing it quickly.

“Someone’s around. Should we inquire here?” Gerand asked.

“Yes,” Gen replied. “I’ll keep out of sight. If Lena recognized me, others might do the same.”

Gerand took the lead, knocking softly. A behemoth of a man opened the door a sliver, eying them suspiciously.

“Excuse me,” Gerand said, “but we are in search of a rat catcher that lives nearby. Could you direct us toward him?”

The smithy humphed in disdain. “If you mean Tory, then he’s in the last building at the far side of town. If you have a rat problem, I’d take it up with the catcher in Chale. Tory’d rather keep a rat for a pet than kill it.”

“Thank you. Our apologies for inconveniencing you on a cold day,” Gerand said. The smithy shut the door as if the young man had the plague.

“Friendly town,” Volney observed.

They walked in the direction the smith indicated, but before they reached their destination, Gerand stopped them in the middle of the street. “Look, we need some sort of a plan or we’ll be slaughtered. Ironkeep is crawling with Eldephaere and Churchmen. I hardly need remind anyone here about what happened when we ran into Padra Nolan. I’ve never felt so worthless in all my life. Then there’s the issue of your face, Gen. No offense. Even if we try some disguise, we can’t conceal your face without arousing suspicion.”

“Unless he dresses like a girl,” Volney offered. “They have to wear those veils, right, like the Chalaine does?”

“Correct,” Gen affirmed. “I think our best bet is to pose as servants. I will have to dress as a woman to hide my face, but I can also conceal our weapons that way, as well.”

“Provided you can find the clothes of an Aughmerian servant girl who is tall and fat enough to accommodate your height and all the extra baggage,” Gerand added.

“So Gen will steal the clothes off some poor slave girl and invade Ironkeep in a dress. So much for Tolnorian honor and dignity!” Volney quipped.

Gerand laughed. “He’s been Rhugothian for over a year now, so he’s willing to sink to whatever depths necessary to get the job done.”

The Portal Mage’s home was a simple log cabin lined on both sides with orderly stacks of wood. A healthy cloud of smoke puffed from the chimney, someone singing and airy tune inside.

“I’ll remain outside until it is time to go so I don’t raise an alarm with Tory,” Gen informed them. “If we wait two hours, it should be the dead of night on the Menegothian shard, and we’ll have the night in Aughmere to come up with a plan. See if Tory has anything to help us. If he wants a password, use
cloven hoof
.”

Gen walked over to one of the woodpiles to get out of sight, and then Gerand rapped on the door. A gangly, youthful man answered, face happy but curious.

“Are you Tory the rat catcher?” Gerand asked.

“Yes,” he answered, face unsure. “Is the snow and cold driving the beasties indoors?”

“Actually,” said Gerand, “we are here on a mission from Torbrand Khairn.”

“He’s no longer in charge of the Black Vine,” Tory said. “High King Khairn now directly oversees the operations into Rhugoth. What password were you given?”

“Cloven hoof.”

Tory’s face registered shock for a moment, but he quickly covered it up. “Well, I suppose you are welcome, then. Come in.”

Gerand and Volney crossed the threshold into a wide room, wooden planks squealing beneath their feet. A fire burned hot in an expansive fireplace. A narrow table with high backed chairs waited in front of the flames. Tory closed the door and invited them to sit.

“Will you take some refreshment, or were you looking to cross immediately?”

“We want to cross in two hours,” Gerand replied. “Where is the Portal?”

Tory said, “In my bedroom, as it turns out. Let me warm some spiced cider for you.”

Tory disappeared into a room that ran behind the double-sided fireplace, returning with two clay mugs a short while later and placing the drinks in front of them.

“I apologize for the darkness of the room. It is simply too cold to open the shutters, and the Black Vine does not see fit to provide me with the means to buy some of those wonderful Rhugothian windows.”

“The fire and the warm drink are comforts enough,” Gerand thanked him.

“Very well. I’ll prepare some supper. Are you expecting anyone else?”

“In a couple of hours, yes. Just one more.”

“I will plan accordingly. If you should need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Tory disappeared into the kitchen again, bowls and utensils clanking and scuffling as he worked.

“That has to be the most accommodating Portal Mage I have ever run across,” Volney commented quietly. “Most I’ve run into seemed a little arrogant or mightily irritated.”

“Like I said,” Gerand yawned. “They’ll actually have to sell their services after Unification, if they have any services to sell at all. I imagine they’re all being much nicer these day. I am so tired. Trudging through the snow really takes it out of me.”

“Me too,” Volney agreed. The warm fire crackled and popped pleasantly, as Tory hummed a tune. The warmth caressed their tired bodies as they leaned back comfortably and drank.

Tory, sentry of the Black Vine, chopped a carrot precisely and patiently as he waited. Cooking always calmed him, and the singing helped him to drive distractions out of his head so he could think more quickly. Of all the Black Vine jobs, sentry was almost as unglamorous as scribe. Sitting around waiting for people to come and go provided few opportunities for distinction. He’d learned the art of hospitality in hopes of setting himself apart. His hospitality did that, but he found out that his unusual skill had, instead, cemented him in his position.

Doubly worse, playing nursemaid to a spoiled Portal Mage ground on his patience, and he considered his patience above average. The only satisfaction he could derive from the unfortunate responsibility was reporting throughout the pathetic town that the Portal Mage was his retarded brother. Judin’s antisocial personality and disdain for small rural towns kept him close to the cabin and out of trouble, while Tory only had to leave to keep up appearances as a rat catcher, a job he executed as ineptly as possible to keep business down.