Ravs Are Rarely Wrong: The Kinowenn Chronicles Vol III Page 13

  “Yes. Kithra is Rixton’s sister. He’s suspicious enough to require watching, but now even doubly so.”

  “Do you think they are focusing on aligning with the royal family so her son will one day be king?”

  “Or are they planting her to kill me or let in others to kill me or get inside information to help with a coup?” Joss asked in one frenzied breath.

  “I’m not sure you should be that paranoid, but it does look suspicious. It seems like an honest proposal,” Maya said after reading the contract.

  “Of course it’s an honest proposal. They like to find loop holes in things; they rarely leave anything vague that way others can’t do the same thing to them. Honest proposal or not, I’d never feel safe sleeping with a Bathrallma in my bed,” Joss joked. “I do think they are trying for an easy in. They don’t like that you have influence here rather than a local girl.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Stall. I don’t want to outright turn it down. I don’t want to offend a possible powerful enemy or strong alliance. There are advisors who like the idea of this match. There are also some that won’t like it. I can play them off of each other for some time. The finance minister will approve the idea because it ties the throne to the highly lucrative Bathrallma family. Some of the generals would probably prefer that I marry a foreign princess to form a treaty. I’m sure the trade minister would agree with that as well. The guild master feels the Bathrallmas hold too much sway to begin with. Members of the council with eligible daughters will dislike the idea and try to put forth their own candidates. So, like I said, stall.”

  “How much time will that buy you?” wondered Maya.

  “Hopefully, until Justin returns and we learn more about what’s going on. No one would expect me to seriously consider a marriage contract until that’s settled. Priorities and all.”

  They both smiled.

  “There is another option, you know,” suggested Joss with a sly smile.

  “Oh, is there? What’s that?”

  “Kithra would be out of luck and I would sleep much safer, if I were already married.”

  “Yes, but where would we find a willing girl you would feel safe with?”

  “I have no idea,” agreed Joss as he took Maya’s hand and kissed it, his eyes smoldering.

  “I don’t think I qualify as safe,” commented Maya.

  “And here I thought willing was the key word we were worried about.”

  “That too,” teased Maya.

  “I did hear about what happened on the practice grounds.”

  “Am I in trouble?” asked Maya flashing her dimples.

  “A woman demoralizing the abilities and manliness of the king’s soldiers is frowned upon. You may have to do something to apologize for rousing the king’s wrath,” Joss took the hand he was still holding and pulled her closer.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Ignore it,” Joss whispered.

  “Your majesty?” asked Sam knocking again.

  Joss sighed, stepping away. “Enter,” he said. Sam stepped in.

  “I have the latest information about the attempted assassination. They knew you were here and delivered it. I thought you would want to see it right away,” said Sam, apologetically.

  Joss sighed and held out his hand for the scroll. Sam bowed and left. Joss read the scroll and handed it to Maya.

  “Big Bad Brad?” snorted Maya. “He called himself Big Bad Brad?”

  “Apparently,” laughed Joss. “I guess he was trying to make a name for himself.”

  “Now he has. He’s the big bad assassin that was eviscerated by a meek little woman.”

  “Ha, I don’t think you qualify as meek.”

  “Make sure you spread the news that Big Bad Brad is dead, killed by the woman he was sent to kill. Perhaps it will discourage other assassins.”

  “Or up the caliber of the assassins hired,” murmured Joss, not happy with that thought.

  “True,” agreed Maya with a frown. She glanced at the scroll again, “It doesn’t say much,” she said after re-reading it.

  “No, it doesn’t. We have a name for an assassin, but not who hired him. That’s the downside of being king. I can’t gather information myself. I have to allow others to do it for me. I can’t help thinking I could get better results doing it myself.”

  “Perhaps. It would be harder now. More people recognize you. It might be that there simply isn’t information to be found.”

  “I’ve considered that. It’s a sobering thought. If the Bathrallmas sent someone to assassinate you, there has to be a trail somewhere. Why can’t we find it? If there isn’t a trail, how easy will it be for them to do it again?”

  “Do you think they are behind everything? Our food was poisoned, too, remember.”

  “I think it’s them. Who else would have the resources and the patience to make sure there isn’t any proof?”

  “They can’t be perfect all the time. They will make a mistake. We have to wait for it and catch them at it,” said Maya.

  “Yes, but will we catch them before or after they kill us?”

  “Before, because us catching them after they kill us isn’t possible,” grinned Maya.

  Joss returned the grin, and they left to see how Dulcie’s dress fitting was coming along.

  Chapter 18

  Lucy sighed and rubbed aching muscles. Clambering around in caves used different muscles than she was used to. As least these caves weren’t as bad as the first ones. They were more open. It was easier to breathe. These caves were home to a variety of animals as well. They periodically heard shuffling, scurrying, and snuffling as they disturbed the current residents. Luckily, they did not come across anything large. Lucy took a sip of water from her nearly empty water-skin. Since they were not using magic to refill their supplies, they were starting to run low. Wisp noticed her studying her water-skin.

  “Don’t worry, we are almost done. We should get through the mountain in time for dinner.”

  “Then what?” asked Lucy. “Do you know a good inn?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I will stay there. It will be your choice to join me.”

  “Should we be apprehensive?” wondered Taran.

  “Not if you behave yourselves,” Wisp smiled slightly. “It’s an inn at the edge of the mountains, bordering Skelt territory and skirting Fredamonn. It’s too close to trouble to attract honest clientele. Everyone there lives at the edge of the law. The inn demands a truce. Anyone who can’t behave is kicked out and not welcome back, if they aren’t killed outright. There is no stealing. It is a safe haven for anyone who wants to stay there. It has a maximum stay of two nights. That means soldiers don’t bother to search there because the turnover rate is so high. I have been there many times. I will stay one night.”

  “After that?” asked Gavin.

  “We will go our separate ways.”

  They rose and started on the last leg of their underground journey. Lucy was glad they would be done soon. It would be a welcome change to stay in an inn. She wasn’t sure how comfortable she would feel staying with a bunch of criminals. Drinking ale next to killers didn’t sound like a good time. Then, she had to laugh at her own hypocrisy. She didn’t consider herself a killer, but she had killed. There were things she had done that would probably make people uncomfortable drinking ale next to her if they knew what she was capable of. None of them were wide-eyed innocents at this point. If there was a truce during the stay, she saw no reason not to enjoy the inn.

  Lucy was breathing hard by the time they left the caves. Wisp had pushed them, setting an almost punishing pace. Lucy crawled through the low hole that Wisp assured her was the exit. It was twilight. Lucy breathed in the fresh air with relish. A mourning dove cooed in the tree beside her. It felt heady to be through the mountains and out of the mists. Justin was busy for the next few minutes healing everyone’s cuts and scrapes. Lucy smiled gratefully at him. It felt good to feel good again. Gavin adjusted the w
ay his weapons hung, and everyone looked at Wisp for further instruction.

  “You’re coming with me to the inn?” Wisp asked.

  “I could use a hot meal I don’t have to cook,” responded Taran with a grin.

  Wisp smiled back and started to walk, “You may not have to cook it, but someone should catch it. I don’t like to show up there empty handed.”

  “I’ll do my best to oblige,” Gavin grinned as he headed off through the forest.

  Lucy followed Wisp, enjoying the feel of grassy ground under her boots again. It wasn’t squashy moss or rocky cave. It was warmer than the caves had been and less damp than the mists. Gavin was back quicker than expected with three rabbits. Wisp checked them over. She nodded her approval, and they all continued to walk. Lucy could smell wood smoke before she saw the lights from the inn. It was built of wood and moss, with a thatched roof. It blended into the surroundings, except for the lights and muted sounds of merriment.

  Wisp opened the door, and they stepped in. The common room went dead quiet. Every head turned their way. They were greeted by the hard, inquisitive eyes of every type of ruffian imaginable, and an air of general disdain. If they hadn’t known what they were walking into, and if they hadn’t been with Wisp, Lucy would have walked right back out. The innkeeper served the drinks he was carrying and walked towards them. He was the biggest man Lucy had ever seen. His bald head almost brushed the ceiling. He had a scar down the side of his neck and another over his right eye. His beard was black with gray streaks and cropped short. He wore a leather apron, and his boots came up to his knees. No wonder everyone behaved and followed the rules. If this man was in charge, he could enforce them.

  “Do you have a room here?” he asked, gruffly.

  “Only if the cook still puts too many onions in the soup,” replied Wisp.

  The change in the atmosphere was palpable. Everyone relaxed, went back to their meals or drinks, and conversation started again. Apparently it was some kind of code and Wisp knew the right words. The innkeeper smiled.

  “Will your usual room do, or would you like another as well?” he asked.

  “The usual will do very well, thank you,” Wisp replied.

  The innkeeper nodded. “Go on up and unload your packs. I’ll get dinner ready for you.”

  “We have some rabbits for you,” Wisp motioned to Gavin, who brought them forward.

  The innkeeper inspected them, nodded and said, “I always like a polite guest.”

  The innkeeper took the rabbits to the kitchen. Wisp turned and went up the stairs. They followed. Her room was at the back corner. It had a bedroom and a small sitting room. They set down their packs.

  “Weapons, too,” added Wisp, pulling metal out of all sorts of unexpected places.

  Gavin looked both uncomfortable at the idea of removing his weapons and fascinated while watching Wisp remove hers.

  “Weapons aren’t allowed in the common room,” Wisp explained.

  Lucy hadn’t noticed. She was too busy eyeing the other patrons’ scowls and scars to pay attention to specific weapons. She removed her daggers and put her staff in the corner. She joined Taran at the door while Gavin continued to disarm himself. Lucy wondered how he had made it through the caves without making more noise. Perhaps he had and she hadn’t noticed, focused as she was at drawing in one breath after the other.

  They walked back downstairs where the innkeeper led them to a table. There were fresh bread bowls filled with steaming hot stew that looked more stuff than broth. The center of the table held a block of cheese, more bread, a pitcher of ale and one of wine. Lucy sat down happily and grabbed a spoon. The atmosphere was welcoming now that everyone knew they were accepted.

  “Hey Wisp, you in?” called a dashing young man.

  “In for what?” asked Wisp cautiously, but with an encouraging smile.

  “Staff contest,” he replied, his brown eyes twinkling.

  “Not enough pointy bits for me,” laughed Wisp.

  “I thought not. Worth asking though.”

  “Knife throwing contest and I’m in.”

  “Any of your friends up for a beating?” he joked.

  “Probably.”

  “Starts in ten minutes. Out back.”

  Wisp nodded and the man walked away. The conversation had been overheard. Others in the room were studying their group and assessing their possible skills. Some smiled in self-confidence. Others looked more apprehensive.

  “Is a weapons contest a good idea here?” Lucy asked Wisp in a whisper.

  “It gets out aggression in an acceptable way. The contests are strictly monitored and have rules. Anyone who breaks them isn’t welcome back. Sometimes it is wrestling or knife throwing. Other than knife throwing, nothing involves edged weapons. One night, it was an obstacle course. You play for pride. It keeps the patrons occupied, entertained, and out of trouble,” Wisp explained with a shrug.

  “What kinds of rules are involved?” asked Gavin. He was definitely interested.

  “Only staffs are allowed. The bout is over once the opponent is disarmed or taps out. There is no additional unarmed combat allowed. You can trip your opponent with your staff, but not your foot. No hands are allowed to touch your opponent’s body. Most of us know too many ways to kill someone without weapons.”

  “I’m in. Justin?”

  “No thanks. I’d rather keep an eye on things. That’s hard to do when someone is swinging a staff at you. You should participate though. Then word can spread of the deeds of the great Gavin,” joked Justin.

  Gavin glared at him, “Taran?”

  Taran glanced at Justin, then nodded. “I’m in. Lucy?”

  “No magic!” Wisp breathed strongly in Lucy’s ear.

  Lucy laughed as though Wisp had said something funny. “My feet are sore from walking. I see no reason to make other parts of my body sore as well.”

  Lucy hadn’t missed the intensity of Wisp’s warning. She wondered if it only applied to fighting or healing as well. If it was the way of things here, why hadn’t Wisp mentioned it before they arrived? She had seen Justin heal and had heard some about Lucy. If magic wasn’t to be used, she should have warned them. Perhaps it was only a problem in combat. Would some of the patrons here see it as cheating?

  “Want to watch though?” asked Wisp, looking friendly for the first time since Lucy had met her.

  “Of course,” replied Lucy with enthusiasm. “What are those?”

  Lucy was looking at a jar one of the serving girls was walking around with. It appeared to be eggs in some sort of brine. She wasn’t sure that the smells coming from the jar were edible, but people were eating them.

  “Hard boiled, spicy jalapeno, pickled eggs,” Wisp answered with a ghost of a smile. “Interested?”

  “Absolutely not! Who eats that kind of thing?” grimaced Lucy.

  “When you live away from easily accessible goods, you find a way to make your own delicacies. The innkeeper has chickens, ducks, and geese. I haven’t seen eggs like this anywhere else. There are people who make a point to come just for the eggs. You might be surprised in the innkeeper’s many hobbies. He also keeps bees for honey and has plentiful vegetable gardens. His daughters make jam. It makes this establishment one of the better places most here have stayed at. The trade-off is that everyone has to behave,” Wisp said the last bit under her breath.

  “Well I want one,” declared Gavin and motioned to the serving girl.

  “How many would you like?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  The serving girl knew they were newcomers here, and watching newcomers try the eggs was always an occasion. Patrons from nearby tables were turning to look in their direction. Lucy wasn’t sure the attention was a good thing, but they already stood out, and it wouldn’t matter once the weapons contest started because Gavin was sure to draw attention then. Reminding herself that the contest involved staffs, Taran would probably attract his share of attention as well.

  “I’d better start with o
ne,” said Gavin paying her. “Don’t go too far though, I may want another.”

  She took a pair of tongs, reached into the jar, and pulled out an egg, handing it to him with a mischievous grin.

  “Any other takers?” she asked the table.

  “If he lives, I may try one,” laughed Taran.

  Lucy and Wisp shook their heads while Justin looked intrigued. Everyone watched as Gavin studied the egg, shrugged his shoulders, and took a bite. Naturally, the size of the bite was about half the egg. He chewed, swallowed, smiled, ate the rest of the egg, chewed, and smiled.

  “That was amazing,” he said as sweat broke out on his forehead from the spice. “I’d like another and one for my doubting friend.”

  As people at the surrounding tables laughed, the girl handed him another egg and one to Taran. Lucy could feel the atmosphere around them relaxing further. The serving girl moved on. Gavin ate his second egg as quickly as the first. His eyes followed the serving girl as if he were debating a third.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” commented Wisp. “Your stomach will be on fire later.”

  Gavin shrugged, wondering if it would be worth it. Taran took a small bite out of his egg. He also smiled in approval as he took another bite then handed the remainder to Justin to try. Justin ate the rest of the egg. All three agreed the eggs were delicious while Lucy wondered how anyone could eat something that smelled so potent.

  Lucy noticed the other patrons rising and making their way to the back door. Apparently, it was time to start the evening’s festivities. They joined the line of people, keeping an appropriate distance away from the man in front of them. It was usually a bad idea to get too close to the back of a possibly paranoid, and likely dangerous, stranger. They exited into an outdoor courtyard of sorts. On the side opposite them, was a sandy area with three rings roped off. The area was illuminated by moonstones. The innkeeper walked about giving competitors wooden squares with symbols on them. It was easier to say triangle against square than remember people’s names. In a corner, someone was taking bets.

  “They used numbers until a fight broke out over who got number 1,” commented Wisp, looking at Gavin’s double waving lines.