Six Heirs (15 page)

“Should we go back, then?”

Sensing an argument on the horizon, Corenn intervened.

“We left the path immediately afterwards so we wouldn’t be spotted. We couldn’t have done anything either way. So it’s useless to fight over it.”

“Lady Corenn, I greatly appreciate your intelligence,” responded the warrior. “And you know what a compliment that is, coming from a narrow-minded old bachelor like me.”

“I do understand and thank you, Master Grigán. I hope you remember it later, when we have a difference of opinion,” she answered with a mischievous smile.

“May such a day never come, for it would see the sacrifice of my freedom for a woman, Lady Corenn. I prefer to be wrong with you than to be right against you.”

Yan couldn’t believe his ears. Corenn and Grigán had completely forgotten about him. And why were they talking like that? He turned to Léti to see her reaction. The young woman was watching her aunt and “uncle” with a wide smile; he couldn’t understand why. Very well, since everyone was ignoring him, he would ignore everyone.

He didn’t last long. His good nature kept him from pouting for very long, his good sense warned him against such ridiculous behavior, and, of course, no one was paying him any more attention than before.

The little group passed a trio of horsemen about a league after they’d turned north. Grigán didn’t give the order to take cover; in fact, he wasn’t scouting ahead anymore either. Yan supposed they must be safer, now that they were on one of the many side roads.

They moved along in silence for a few leagues, passing or being passed by a number of pedestrians and riders. They even saw an ornate wagon, pulled by six horses, with two uniformed men bearing an arrogant expression copied from their passenger—apparently a Lorelien noble. Yan followed the carriage with his eyes for as long as he could. One never
saw and would never see such splendor in Kaul. Could he one day travel in such a fashion?

They traveled through two villages much like Jerval or Eza. Yan didn’t even ask for their names. At the end of the third deciday, which marked the apogee, and when they were passing through yet another village, Corenn stopped her mount in front of a rather large building.

“Grigán, what do you say we stop at this inn? So much water’s fallen on my head this morning that I think it will take a hundred years to dry out.”

“Lady Corenn, I’d love to indulge you, and I admit that I wouldn’t be against a goblet of wine and a hot meal in front of a nice fire. But caution prevents me; even if we can ride safely, I fear we must wait until Bénélia before we can expose ourselves to so many strange faces.”

“Of course, you’re right,” Corenn recognized. “Watch over us, Master Grigán, or I would quickly let my fatigue overrun my good sense.”

“I doubt that could ever happen, Lady Corenn. But it will be a great pleasure to look after you.”

They got themselves back on the road at a slow trot. Léti approached Yan quietly.

“Did you see that? They’re courting one another.”

Yan hiccupped with surprise. Suddenly, the urge to laugh came over him, but it flamed out under Léti’s serious gaze.

“They aren’t courting! They’re just talking...”

“Of course they are. Did you see how they spoke to one another?”

Léti looked thoroughly convinced, and very pleased to boot. Yet again, Yan felt a bit stupid. What, he had to call her “Lady Léti” to make her happy? He wasn’t against trying, if
she didn’t laugh in his face, as she probably would. Something escaped him. For a while now, a lot of things had been escaping him.

He examined the warrior and the Mother, the combatant and the diplomat, the lawless man and the Law. No, they had nothing in common, except their age. How could they get together? Did Léti think that Grigán was going to ask Corenn for her hand on the Day of the Promise, like a shy young man asking a hesitant young woman?

The idea made Yan want to laugh again. He could imagine that fateful day with slightly less apprehension. He resolved to think of the same thing every time the subject tormented him. In other words, practically all the time.

They came across more and more people the closer they got to the river. Farmers, horsemen, merchants and their caravans. Yan scrutinized each one of these unique characters with an avid curiosity.

One of them was leading a pack of strange animals, a sort of cross between a dog and a sheep. Another carried a bizarre weapon, like a sword with two blades, one on either side of the handle. And there was another leading a donkey loaded with baskets of pink-colored fruits. There was a group walking in single file, their heads down, chanting a few unintelligible words—followers of some unknown cult. A man was encouraging his six wives to pick up the pace to avoid losing sight of his horse. A couple of others were arguing in a strange language. That woman over there...

“Don’t stare at people like that, Yan,” Corenn told him.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” he mumbled, “but they’re all so...strange!”

“You seem just as strange to them. Everyone seems strange through the eyes of another. But courtesy demands that we overlook these details.”

“It’s not just a question of politeness,” Grigán added. “One of those men might try to start a fight with you.”

“Just because I’m looking at him? Come on!”

“Keep it up, and you’ll see. I bet before dark you’ll hear a few insults or get a punch thrown your way.”

Yan decided not to answer. Doubting himself, he now watched a bit more discreetly.

They came to the Gisland shortly before nightfall. There, a crowd of several dozen awaited the barge that would take them to the other bank. The river was wide, and surely deep, which explained why no one was trying to ford it. They dismounted their horses and stretched their legs.

“It’s a little different than the Mèche,” Yan told Léti.

“Pff,” Grigán condescended. “The Mèche is hardly a river at all. And even the Gisland here is nothing. You should see the Alt.”

“I would love to,” replied the Kaulien in a distant tone. “Someday, if I can.”

Corenn called the two young ones over to her.

“Look, there, to the south. You see those little lights? That’s Bénélia.”

“It’s a lot more beautiful from here,” said Léti. “All I can remember is the stench and the filthy streets. Nothing like Kaul!”

“How would you get to Berce before?” asked Yan. “I mean, if you didn’t take the barge?”

“We simply took a boat from Lorelia to Bénélia,” answered the Mother. “But not everyone could afford the crossing, especially if they had baggage. You have to pay the royal tax twice on all merchandise: once in each city. And the small-scale merchants would rather go a little further upstream and take a barge, here or even a few leagues further. From there, you travel by land to the Vélanèse River, cross, and then take another road to Lorelia. Which is what we’re going to do.”

“It must be a lot longer that way.”

“It’s also a lot less risky,” interrupted the warrior. “If I were one of the Züu, I would camp out on one of the Bénélian wharves and wait patiently for the opportunity to nab us. But they can’t monitor all the comings and goings of every barge.”

The boat they were waiting for was only halfway across, and it would be a while before it arrived. Yan decided to take advantage of the wait and explore the surroundings, but Grigán stopped him as soon as he turned to go.

“Where are you going?”

“Just for a walk.”

“Not a chance. You’re staying here.”

Yan froze, undecided. He had agreed to obey the warrior, but still, the man was pushing his luck a bit.

“I’m going too,” Léti announced defiantly.

“Perhaps that’s not such a good idea,” said Corenn. “These people here aren’t your friendly Kaulien villagers. I would be happier if you stayed.”

Put that way, Yan was prepared to give in. But Léti sensed that Yan was wavering and grabbed him by his arm before he could say another word.

“We’re just going for a little walk! Why don’t you learn to trust us a little?”

For a moment, Grigán and Corenn simply stood and watched as they walked away, unsure of what to do.

“In your opinion, would it be ‘undiplomatic’ for me to drag their asses back here?”

“I’m sure they would think so, Master Grigán. Perhaps it would be best to turn a blind eye on this little whim and save our authority for truly dangerous situations?”

“All right, I agree. But part of me almost hopes that something bad happens to them, just to put them in their place!”

The warrior couldn’t stand still, pacing as he stroked his mustache, apparently a nervous tic.

“Would you mind if I left you here alone for a moment with the horses?” he finally said. “I’m at least going to keep an eye on our charges, just to make sure everything’s all right.”

“Go, my friend,” she replied with a smile. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Grigán mumbled a thank you and hurried after the young ones.

How was it that he kept losing control of the situation like this?

Except for the inn a few hundred yards from the pier, a handful of boutiques spread out along the bank was the only attraction in the area. Léti, who simply wanted to prove her own freedom, was happy simply walking aimlessly, until Yan guided her toward the little market that had caught his attention. Though hardly interested at first, the young woman eventually had a great deal of fun.

Apart from the vegetables, fruits, fish, cheeses, breads, and diverse drinks, which were already strange enough and of questionable quality, there were also esoteric or religious talismans for sale; maps of the known and unknown world; peculiar objects whose forms, origins, and uses Yan and Léti didn’t recognize; diverse herbs and salves; small weapons...

Léti stopped in front of the weapons stand and examined each item with obvious desire. Yan waited silently at her side, hoping she wouldn’t try to buy something here. He was already worried enough about what Grigán would do to them when they got back.

The young woman took an interest in one item in particular. Yan realized that it was a bow. Curses, he was going to get in such trouble...

An old woman dressed in rags garbled something at them.

“I don’t understand,” Léti answered in a clear voice.

The crone raised her arms and eyes to the sky in a gesture of thanks. She was just as dirty as Old Vosder, Yan thought. He didn’t think that was possible.

“Some Kauls!” she mumbled in broken Kauli. “Some Kauls, I be sure of it.”

“We say Kauliens,” Léti responded dryly. “And ‘I am sure of it.’ Furthermore, we didn’t ask you for anything.”

Léti turned her back to the woman abruptly and directed her attention back to the market stall. Yan was going to do the same, but the old woman spoke to him directly, grabbing insistently at his sleeve.

“Do you want to know your future? For three tices, I give you all of tomorrow.”

Yan tried to break free as best he could. This woman had quite a grip. Why did this kind of thing always happen to him?

“No, thank you. That sort of thing doesn’t interest me.”

“But yes, Kaulien. It interest you. Everyone care for tomorrow.”

Léti curtly turned to face the pesky old woman. It seemed as though everyone was trying to order them around this evening. If it weren’t for her respect for elders, thanks to her education in the Matriarchy, she would already have told this pest exactly what she thought of her.

Yan tried in vain to brush her off without being impolite.

“No, no, really. Tomorrow doesn’t interest me.”

He realized that what he was saying was actually nonsense.

“But yes, Kaulien. Tomorrow is important for you. Give me three tices, and I will tell you your fortunes and misfortunes. When you be rich and when you will have your Union. When you have children and how long you will live.”

Yan thought about it for just an instant. He still had Grigán’s money; he took it out and began sorting it in his outstretched palm, when the old woman quickly grabbed three coins. He wasn’t sure, but didn’t she grab one coin that was a size larger than the others?

Léti shook her head, disapprovingly. The young man knew what she was thinking. Even so, the old woman had said something that actually did interest him: when you will have your Union.