Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (56 page)

With a relieved smile, Bernardo swung his horse around. “Well, let’s pick up the pace a bit then, shall we?”

“Ralta?” Kian’s expression was quizzical, but as they entered the large port town, leaving Baran’s personal guard and Tessier’s squadron camped a little distance outside the walls, he led the Shadow Flight, Baran and Tessier directly to the harbor. Looking around, he saw what he was apparently looking for and rode towards a large inn on the edge of the quay. “Let the men mix in amongst the locals,” he advised. “They might just hear something useful. We’ll go on inside…the innkeeper here should be helpful.” Kian shrugged at Brogan’s enquiring glance. “Let’s just say he knows the Order.” Sitting at a large table near the fireplace, the men waited for the innkeeper to bustle across to them, a tray full of brimming tankards balanced on his hand.

“Greetings, gentlemen: ale for you all?” Remiel began depositing the drinks on the table. “Long journey? Will you be needing rooms?”

Kian motioned outside with his head. “Those are our men out there,” he said. “They’ll be requiring ale, and something to eat. We’ll be paying for it all.” He deposited a handful of coins onto Remiel’s tray, a small token identical to the one Jenevra had used among them.

Remiel went pale as he saw it and, quickly finishing setting the ale down, made to move away from the table.

Kian grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize that token! Have you seen another one recently: maybe from someone unexpected?”

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” Remiel blustered, a light sheen of nervous sweat breaking out on his bald head. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He turned to move away, but found Baran Wargentin’s intimidating bulk in front of him.

Placing an arm across the innkeeper’s shoulders, Baran said mildly, “We’d really appreciate it if you’d join us in a drink.” The pressure from Baran’s arm pushed Remiel onto the bench, sandwiched between Tessier and Baran; Kian, Bernardo and Brogan glaring at him from the opposite side of the table.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Baran smiled tightly at Remiel. “Now we can talk. Carry on Kian.”

“What is your name?” Kian asked.

Remiel told him, visibly shaken at their treatment.

“Remiel … I know you’ve seen another token like this recently. It was in your eyes. We’re looking for the person who was carrying it.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

“Ho, Remiel, Fara! More ale over here!” Another table of locals was running dry. “Remiel, come on! The service around here is terrible,” a chorus of broad laughs went up.

“You need Coretta back here, my friend!” one of the men shouted across at Fara, busy trying to pour ale behind the counter. “This place isn’t the same without her.”

Bernardo’s eyes narrowed and he strolled across to the rowdy group. Putting a few coins on the table, he nodded at them. “Buy you gentlemen a drink?”

Welcoming him with open arms and empty flagons, the men made a space for Bernardo and yelled across at Fara for another tankard for their newest friend.

“You’re here too late, my friend,” one of the men said mournfully, raising a foamy nose from his fresh pot of ale to hoots of amusement from his friends. “The service and entertainment around here has disappeared lately—ever since that idiot noble chased her away.”

“Typical nobles,” another man slapped his beer down angrily. “Always thinking of their own pleasures. Not a thought for the lives they ruin. And her as pretty as a spring morning too.” He shook his head despondently.

“Her?” Bernardo asked.

“Coretta … Remiel’s niece.” The foamy nosed man supplied. “Lovely girl. No sooner here that she had to run off again—bloody nobles.”

The group all subsided into mumbling again.

“Special then, this wench, was she?”

“You have no idea.” A short squat man with long drooping moustaches pointed his finger at Bernardo. “Made you smile just to see her bring your ale, it did. And she could tell a story like you’ve never heard.”

“Oh, those stories; you’ve never heard them told like she could,” agreed foamy nose. “I tell you—” he belched and peered at Bernardo blearily. “I don’t look at the sky the same way anymore.”

“The sky? Did she happen to tell you stories about the stars, my friends?” A grin was appearing on Bernardo’s face now.

“Tha’s right,” foamy nose finally pulled his sleeve across his face removing the object of amusement. “How do you know that? Have you seen her? Is she coming back?” He raised his voice to bellow across at Remiel, still wedged between the Prince and the Captain. “Remiel, he knows Coretta! Maybe he can persuade her to come back!”

Bernardo slapped the fellow on the shoulder, walking back to Brogan and the others. “Not too many young women who can hold a room spellbound with stories of the stars,” he said blandly.

A broad grin appeared on Brogan’s face. “That there aren’t, Bernardo. Where is she, Remiel?”

The burly innkeeper folded his arms and looked stubborn.

“What is wrong with you?” demanded Kian. “I showed you the token. You know the Order, the sign outside says so. I know the Nimh’a’s been here, so why aren’t you telling us where she’s gone?”

“I’ll have your names first,” Remiel snapped, folding his arms defiantly. “She was avoiding someone. I’ll tell you nothing until I know you’re not the one.” He looked outside, nodding his head towards one of the men. “She left with him, so I don’t know why you’re even pretending you don’t know where she is.”

“What?” Tessier’s patience was being stretched just a little too far. “Who did she leave with? When? Why?”

“Name?” Remiel insisted, doggedly.

“Tessier.”

“Not Pichot?”

“No! Why? What’s Pichot got to do with anything?”

“Then you know this Pichot?” Remiel looked on them with increasing hostility.

“Yes, I know him.” Tessier replied, a smile of remembrance breaking through. “I usually have to keep him away from her. She hates him.”

Remiel relaxed a little. “She does.”

“So she has been here?” Kian pushed.

Remiel nodded. “But she left with him, the Labrian.” He pointed through the window at Farid Jatar.

Calling Farid into the inn, Brogan stood him in front of Remiel. “You’re absolutely sure it was this man she left with?”

“If it wasn’t him, it was his twin brother,” Remiel said. “They took his ship out yesterday, early morning. I think they were heading north.”

“Diruthia,” Brogan confirmed what they were all thinking.

“Him!” exclaimed Remiel, gesturing frantically towards a figure walking along the harbor. “That’s him!” He stopped, and looked at Farid. “So, it wasn’t you?”

Farid’s face was like flint as the newcomer strode into the inn, greeting them all with the traditional Labrian palms to heart gesture.

Faris stood in front of them, just a shade slighter in build than his brother. “Which of you is Sergeant Brogan?”

Startled, Brogan stepped forward. “I am.” He glanced between the two men. “You are related?”

Farid nodded brusquely, his face a mask.

Dismissing that problem for later, Brogan turned his attention to Faris, who handed him a packet. “From your Emperor,” he said, unnecessarily as the seal was evident. “A man I find I like. Our countries may have more communications in the future.” He turned to Farid. “Brother.”

Farid’s dark eyes were expressionless. “Where is the princess?”

Faris rubbed his hands together, a deep smile creasing his eyes. “She is where she wanted to be. I merely helped her on her journey. The Emperor offered her to me as a wife, but I do not think she would be happy in our country. She finds it difficult to observe the proper behavior … or to keep quiet.”

“He did what?” Tessier spluttered indignantly. “I don’t believe it! She’s an Imperial Princess.”

“And I am a Labrian Prince,” Faris demurred smoothly. “She would be a worthy bride for me.”

“Worthy!” Tessier nearly choked.

“I don’t believe this!” Brogan said. “The Emperor wants us back in Salanova.”

“We can’t go back now,” Tessier objected. “She’s only a day or so ahead of us. We have to keep going.”

Brogan shook his head slowly. “No, Captain, the Emperor expresses himself very clearly on that point. Your squadron and Shadow Flight are to return to Salanova immediately on receiving these orders. There seems to be something going on within the palace, though. We’re under orders not to discuss anything with Captain Pichot upon our return. Curious.” He glanced at the sheet in his hand again. “Any deviation to these instructions will be considered treason.”

“I thought you’d already done that by not obeying Commander Rabenaldt’s orders from Mirizir?” Baran observed cheerfully. “Anyway, the Emperor’s orders didn’t mention me did they? Why don’t I just follow the princess and you can all go see what’s bothering the Emperor? Where did you say she went?” He looked at Faris.

“I didn’t.” The Prince gazed coolly back at him. “Brother, we must talk.” He swept away to a small table in the corner.

Farid glared at him for a moment, before following. Within moments they were in a heated discussion conducted in their own language.

Leaving his ship to make its way back up the coast to the Marestin River, Faris joined the Flight on horseback for the journey to Salanova. Riding next to his brother, they made an impressive pair.

“Prince Farid?” Gervaise D’Agostino queried. “And this is your brother? Tell me, Jatar, does that mean that you actually lied when you said you had no family?”

Farid glowered at him. “I do not lie. I am dead to my family, and they to me.”

Staring pointedly at Faris, D’Agostino pushed the issue. “Doesn’t look like you’re dead to him. He keeps talking to you. Or is that some weird Labrian custom you forgot to mention?”

Heading up the west side of the Coural mountains they made good time; cutting through the mountains along the banks of the Marestin River towards Salanova. Prince Baran was still with them; waiting to talk to Phillip before he made serious plans to follow the princess.

Conscious of his missing Captain’s orders, Brogan halted the Flight just outside the city, making sure everyone smartened up; forming them into two columns to ride in as she would want them to.

Captain Tessier had no such hesitation and thundered his squadron into their barracks at a rapid pace, causing mayhem through the main market areas of Salanova as they tore through the city. Leaving his troops to care for their horses, eat and rest, the Captain headed into the Palace, dusty and disheveled from his journey.

Arriving at the council chamber somewhat cleaner and tidier than before; Blaise was taken aback to see Commander Rabenaldt already there with the Emperor and Baran. Groaning inwardly, he saluted briefly and took his seat.

Brogan hesitated in a similarly worried fashion as he entered the room and spotted his former Commander glaring at him. Before he could take his place, Raik’s patience ran out as he bounded to his feet, slamming his fists on the table.

“A squadron, a Flight, and your entire personal guard?” He bellowed at Tessier, Brogan and Prince Baran. “And you still can’t keep track of a nineteen year old girl? I should have you all hung. What the hell happened down there?” He directed the last comment directly at Brogan, who looked absolutely stricken.