Mystic: A Book of Underrealm (8 page)

Fortinbras shrugged and turned to the Mystic. “Please, my lady, you cannot travel on this floating sieve. Let me provide you one of my ships. I have a schooner whose captain has sailed for twenty years. Let him carry you to Wavemouth, for your own safety. It would shame me greatly to lose you upon this pauper’s raft.”

Brimlad scowled beside Loren, holding his tongue. Clearly, the captain was no more eager to bear the Mystic on her journey than Loren, though he could not share her reason.

The woman ignored Fortinbras and focused her gaze past Loren to Annis. Her eyes lingered a moment before they returned to Xain. “An odd-looking party the four of you make. What purpose carries you to Wavemouth? The girl behind you might be a jester, yet you wear clothing fit for a noble. The boy has the look of a city urchin, but this young woman carries herself like a wildlander. Whatever am I to make of you?”

“We are companions of chance.” The scowl had not left Xain’s face nor the anger and anxiety from his voice.

He will have us discovered
.
 

The wizard had no gift for bluffing and lacked the silver tongue that Jordel had mayhap too easily used. Loren would have to control the conversation, or they were lost.
 

She stepped forward, further obscuring Annis behind her.
 

“Truly, we wish to offer a grand tale of our meeting. Alas, there is little to tell. I came here to fetch my little cousin—” she patted Gem’s head, “—for his parents have not returned from a voyage, and we fear them lost. I found him tossed from his home and abandoned on the streets. I mean to bring him to relations in Wavemouth. This man I met fresh from his contract in a sellsword company.” She gestured at Xain. “Battles here are few, and he means to sail to other lands where fighting men can command coin and drink. As we travel in the same direction, his services as a bodyguard came cheaply.”

For the first time, the Mystic’s veil of calm shifted, and she smiled gently without any humor. “One of you, at least, speaks with courtesy. I would have taken you for a poor man’s daughter and not one given to easy words. Or to possess such a fine cloak.”

Loren flushed, her fingers picking at the cloth’s edge. The merchant’s eyes finally found her, and she saw them narrow as if searching a memory. Fortinbras did not look at Annis, but Loren knew she must lead his mind from its current, dangerous path. She let the flush bloom in her cheeks and held her head high, slightly trembling, as if at once proud and embarrassed.

“I am a barmaid in a tavern in Wavemouth,” she said. “The gentlefolk who go there are of high breeding and . . . some lords enjoy a girl with a quick tongue. The cloak was a present from one such.”

Understanding flashed in the merchant’s eyes, followed by contempt. His gaze drifted away. But the Mystic’s stayed unchanging, and her cold smile simply widened.

“Such a story would explain it, indeed.” The statement could have two meanings, and Loren did not wonder which she intended. “But you have given three accounts and not four. What of the mute behind you? Why does she hide behind such a colorful cloak?”

Loren glanced behind her, as if she had forgotten Annis’s presence. “Ah, the beggar girl. I saw her being beaten in the street, by some stuck-up landsman from Dorsea. When I paid him off to leave her alone, she took to following me. She has yet to speak a word. I think she may be . . . well . . .” Loren put both hands to her temples and tilted her head—a universal sign for the mentally feeble.

She turned to Annis, and the Mystic followed her gaze. Then Xain and Gem, until soon everyone on the boat was staring at the girl—all but the merchant. A moment of silence passed. Then Annis burst into a mad giggle and skipped back and forth on the balls of her feet, hands flapping like wings beneath her cloak.

The Mystic looked to Loren with a frown. “It is sad to see a soul so broken. I think I would like the girl much better with a noble child’s tongue and a dress of fine blue cloth.”
 

Again, Loren shuddered at the words, this time at their not-too-hidden meaning, down to the description of what Annis had been wearing before her flight.
 

“You claimed you had no great tales of how you all met, and yet you have spun nothing but pretty words. You could have been a bard, girl. Mayhap you still can be.”

Loren made herself blush again and tried to curtsey with her cloak—though she made sure the dagger stayed covered. “My lady is too kind.”

“I speak selfishly. For I could wish for no better companions for my journey to Wavemouth. Tomorrow evening did you say, Captain? I shall meet you here then.”

The woman spun on her heel, and Fortinbras went to gallantly take her hand, helping her up the steps. But Brimlad took a quick step towards her. “My boat is full already! I can scarce hold these four, but they will not part from each other. I cannot take another.”

The Mystic stopped. Slowly she turned, and slowly shed the deep red cloak from her shoulders. Beneath it she wore no armor, and Loren saw no blade or other weapon hanging at her belt. But in each movement came a deliberate threat, as though she had parted her folds to reveal an assassin, waiting with a poisoned dagger ready to pierce. Then she pointed to where the cloak was clasped at her throat, and to the silver pin that held it.

“Do you see this badge, Captain?”

Brimlad hesitated. Loren had no doubt he had noticed the badge from the moment the Mystic appeared on his dock. “Aye, I see it.”

“Then you know I can compel your vessel to carry me whether you will it or not, so long as I provide compensation. Which, of course, I am happy to do. You have two choices: Bring me to Wavemouth along with your other passengers, or leave them here and take me alone. What is your choice?”

Brimlad scowled, and Loren saw his fingers twitch at his side as though itching for fists. “I will see you here tomorrow then, m’lady. May I know the name of my new charge, or do I presume too much?”

“Of course not, Captain. I am Vivien and am most grateful for your service.”
 

The Mystic turned and took the merchant’s hand. He led her up the steps, and together they vanished over the stone wall rimming the river.

Xain waited for the Mystic to drift from earshot and then turned to Brimlad. “The woman cannot sail with us.”

“Aye, I know it. We shall sail in the morning without her.”

“West,” Loren said.

Both wizard and captain turned to her, blinking.

“Say again, girl?” said Brimlad.

“She knows we mean to sail east, and the woman is no fool. She will expect us to try and evade her. She will have her merchant friend post guards at the city’s east watergate or bribe the guards posted there already. Leave without her, and we will be put to the King’s justice.”

The men blanched at her words. Xain slowly nodded. “Again, you prove yourself more than a forester’s daughter.”

“Aye, it is what I would do,” grumbled Brimlad. “At least, if I were a thin wisp of a girl with a butcher’s heart and a face of ice.”

Gem said, “But what lies west of here? Where will we go?”

“Few towns along the river that way,” said Brimlad thoughtfully. “And none where I know friends who might help you. Not until we sail to Selvan’s western border, and reach the city of—”

“Wellmont.” Loren said the word along with the captain and felt her heart sink.

“Aye,” said Brimlad, cocking his head in surprise. “What is it, girl? You look like you have lost your favorite dog.”

Loren remembered spying upon the sellsword company beside Jordel.
Precious little until one finds Wellmont at the southern foot of the Greatrocks,
the Mystic had said, as they studied the tracks leading west. “I do not know if Wellmont is a safe place to hide.”

“Why not?” said Xain.

Loren shook her head. “It is too long a tale, and not every word should be spoken. Besides, what choice do we have? We will go to Wellmont, and if we find danger, we will find somewhere to run.”

Xain nodded. “Still, I would hear the story you fear to repeat. For now, we should find ourselves a place to sleep for the night. Brimlad, can you point us to an inn with few curious eyes—or fleas?”

“The Dog’s Dinner if the second is more important. The Moonlight Inn if you care for the first. Though like as not the city is infested, what with summer strong.”

“The Moonslight Inn, then,” said Xain. “And thank you. You save us from greater peril than you know.”

“And more than I would like to guess, I imagine,” Brimlad said gruffly. “Be here come dawn’s first light, or I will leave this city without you.”

“You have my word,” Xain said.

Brimlad told the wizard how to reach the inn, and then with a final grasping of wrists Xain led them up the dock and into the city. Though they had at first seemed lazy and relaxed, buildings now loomed with menace and evil intent.

ten

XAIN LED THEM UP ONE avenue and down another, sometimes wandering dark narrow alleys, other times skirting the edges of the wide and slow-moving streets. Before long they saw the inn; over the door hung a sign painted in faded blue, with a dirty white moon looming above a farmhouse on a green field.
 

“Here we are, and not too soon,” said Xain. “I shall sleep uneasy tonight but certainly better than we have upon the road.”

“Hold a moment,” said Gem, stopping short.
 

Loren heard something wary in his tone and stepped to his side. “What is it, Gem?”

His lips pressed tight in worry. “Two others follow us. It might be chance that puts them upon our path, but chance has carried them with us too long for my liking.”

Xain looked over Gem’s shoulder, but the boy gently shoved him. “Do not look for them,” said Loren, careful to keep her gaze on Gem. “Keep your eyes upon us.”

“They must work for the Mystic woman,” said Annis. “If they worked for my family, they would have taken us already.”

“I will deal with them if you point them out,” Xain said.

Loren looked at him aghast, but the wizard met her eyes without hesitation. “Calm yourself, girl. I would not kill them. But if they were to find themselves tied up in some shop basement, they could not tell their masters where to find us.”

“I have a better, and less brutish, idea,” Gem said. “Now that I know where the inn stands, follow me.”

He set off without waiting for agreement, and Loren had to half run a few steps to catch up. Suddenly, Gem swerved left down the inn’s side and once in the alley broke into a jog. The others did the same once out of view. Gem turned left at the end of the alley, leading them farther from the inn, and broke into a run.
 

Soon, they were racing full speed between and around buildings. Gem would lead them back to a street, and they would stroll casually across it as though nothing were amiss. Then, out of sight in another alley, they would resume their charge.

Loren found herself turned around and utterly unsure of where they had ended up. Xain must have been lost as well, for he growled in frustration. “All of this is well and good, boy, but how will it help us if we, too, become lost?”

“He means to ask,” Loren said hastily, glaring at Xain, “how do you know where you are going?”

Gem sneered back at them. “A boy in Cabrus knows how to keep his head amongst buildings, even if the wandering girl and the wise wizard with him do not. Observe.”

Gem burst out of the alley and into the street. Loren looked up with shock to find them standing below the Moonlight Inn’s slowly swinging sign. Annis squeaked beside her, and even Xain looked impressed.

Gem polished his nails on the breast of his filthy tunic. “Remember this the next time you question my guidance.”

“I will, little master,” said Xain, which made Gem’s chest puff still more.

“If the little lordlings will cease complimenting each other, mayhap we can move inside before we are found.”
 

Loren followed her own words, stepping inside the inn’s tall front door. The others filed in behind her.

The common room held only a few drunkards wasting away their afternoon in dark corners well away from the wide fireplace. A large, swarthy woman stood behind the bar, using a dirty rag to polish a dirtier glass. Loren remarked upon it with some surprise. It was a surprising show of wealth in such a mean little place.
 

Annis saw her expression. “The sand of the Dragon’s Tail is the best in the nine lands for glassmaking, they say, so it is common along the river’s shores.”

Loren said, “Common as dirt, you might say.”

Gem snickered.

Xain took Annis to the woman, and she pulled some coins for a room from her purse. A small boy led them upstairs to a room with a large pallet but hardly enough room for a couple to lay.

Xain said, “You girls may have the straw. The boy and I will sleep upon the floor.”

“I want the bed! Do you know how rarely I have been granted such a luxury? I was meant for a gentler life than I have been given,” Gem flung himself down on the pallet and turned to look at them, spreading his arms wide.

“Aye, a soft scholar’s life.” Loren looked skeptically at the pallet—only Gem could have called the thing a luxury. “You may have it, then, Gem, and share it with Annis. I have slept on far worse than a wooden floor.”

Xain frowned and rubbed at the back of his neck with a dirty palm. “I did not . . . I would rather you have the pallet.”

Loren understood his meaning and rolled her eyes. “Sky above, wizard, this is not a house of lovers. Do you think a maiden cannot sleep on the floor with a man and stay a maiden?”
 

Xain’s face turned beet red. “You are being ridiculous. I meant only a simple courtesy, not a . . . I will fetch us some dinner.”

He quickly retreated through the door. Annis giggled and flung herself on the pallet beside Gem, reaching over to poke his ribs. Gem yelped and rolled away, batting at her grasping hands.

Loren could not bring herself to join in their joking. She remembered Chet, thinking of when they were younger and would sleep beside each other on the forest floor to follow a hunt. Her parents had ended those trips near as they started. Treasured memories, more valuable because of their rarity. A year ago, and now a lifetime away.