Carbathe’s estate glowed like a candle in the depth of night below them. Grevail, Aritane, and Auphen hid on a tree covered hilltop several hundred paces away which possessed a good view of the entire compound. Grevail wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. Aritane would not allow a fire, since it might alert Carbathe to their presence.
It had been several days since he’d met these Delphines. Alisia had given him a room in her own house, but so far, he’d done nothing but twiddle his thumbs and eat her food while trying to ignore the scratching in his head that pulled him toward Seirod’s home. That all changed two days ago when she called him to her sitting room with Auphen and Aritane, assigning them all this task.
Several leagues from Tamirra in the countryside, they had followed Carbathe to this estate with orders from Alisia to watch for anything suspicious. A long sigh left Grevail. They’d seen nothing of note in that time. “How long are we going to spend out here?” he asked. This was getting him no closer to the Emberstone and his revenge on Seirod. He could still feel the pull of the relic, but lesser than it had been before, like a tiny tickling on his brain.
“We follow our orders,” Aritane said. “As long as it takes.” The man sat with his back against a tree, whisking a knife along a whetstone. “Alisia told us to watch Carbathe until he returns to Tamirra…so we watch Carbathe until he returns to Tamirra.” The dark haired man fixed Grevail with a stare that dared him to argue.
Grevail turned back to studying the wide, bowl-shaped valley below where Carbathe’s estate sat, bathed in the purple tint of Lusin and surrounded by fenced pastures of cattle. A handful of buildings lay at the center, the largest of which was the residence where Carbathe secluded himself only to emerge for brief periods during the day. A few servants worked the farm, though strangely, Grevail had yet to see even one guardsman. If Carbathe really were planning what Aritane and Auphen claimed, Grevail thought the man would have at least a dozen bodyguards on hand. The Delphines insisted a coup instigated by Carbathe was imminent, and yet more ridiculous to Grevail, they believed the nobleman had involved the Urucan somehow. Why am I wasting my time with this?
“Tonight may be the night,” Auphen said as if sensing Grevail’s frustration, something the young man seemed to do regularly. “Carbathe often retires to his various estates to avoid detection and meet with conspirators. I know waiting out here isn’t very…thrilling, but it must be done. Tamirrans are ignorant of Carbathe’s plans. It is our duty to bring them into the light where Daryn can see them.”
Aritane’s whetstone continued to whisk away and he spoke without looking up from it. “So far, we haven’t had the chance to whisper what we’ve found into Daryn’s ears…though admittedly, our evidence isn’t conclusive. Most people seem to consider us as conspiratorial as we do Carbathe, whom they believe is simply a disgruntled man that will eventually come around.” Aritane gave an incredulous shake of his head. “I don’t know how long they think it will take for him to see sense, but no matter how dangerous Carbathe’s rhetoric becomes, people still do not take him seriously…except for us of course.”
Auphen grumbled at the night. “By the time they do take us seriously it will be too late and whatever trap Carbathe is preparing will have sprung. We can’t let that happen, Grevail, or Tamirra will never be the same.”
It isn’t my city, he thought, but even as he did, felt some embarrassment. These people had taken him in, given him food and a place to sleep. He was no closer to Seirod, but he would be far worse off if it wasn’t for these Delphines. Why should I care what they think of Carbathe?
A moment of silence stretched until it was interrupted by Auphen jerking straight with a soft gasp. “What’s that?” he said, pointing down the hill.
Grevail squinted into the night at the shadowy estate below them. Several riders, only just visible in the faint torchlight, had emerged from the darkness and were making their way toward the central building. “Visitors…but how are we to know what kind?”
Aritane tucked the whetstone into his coat pocket and came to kneel at the crest of the ridge with Grevail. “We must get closer and see who they are. A noble’s retinue perhaps, but we can’t be sure until we see faces. Come.” The older man clapped Grevail on the shoulder and left the hilltop, descending the slope.
Grevail stared at Aritane’s receding form as it disappeared into the night. Is he mad? What is he going to do? Knock on the door?
“Come on,” Auphen said, still crouching nearby. Unlike Grevail felt, the young man looked as comfortable as if he were lounging at home in his favorite chair instead of prowling around a nobleman’s property under the cover of night. “Stay quiet and follow us.” After a reassuring nod for Grevail, Auphen descended behind Aritane.
Grevail hesitated for a moment, then breathed a sigh and hurried to follow before he lost them in the dark. He picked his way down the rocky, sparsely forested hillside with careful steps to avoid stepping on a loose stone or into a hole. Still, he did stumble, just catching himself before he fell. With a wry scoff he imagined himself tumbling down to the bottom in an avalanche of debris, alerting Carbathe and his guests.
They found Aritane waiting for them near the bottom of the slope and tailed him into the dark where they came upon the first fence line. The cattle were quiet except for the occasional bellow, but most laid on the ground sleeping. Carbathe’s estate was only a few hundred paces away now, lit by lamps and torches in a warm orange glow.
Aritane climbed over the fence to crouch on the other side in the pasture, waving for Auphen and Grevail to join him. “Keep your head down and don’t disturb them,” the dark-haired man said, nodding toward the cattle. “We will use them as cover to get close enough. If Carbathe and his guests see movement out here, hopefully they think it is nothing more than a few restless cows. This is what we were waiting for. We need to know who these people are.”
With that, Aritane crept down the fence line toward the buildings, keeping far enough away from the still forms of livestock so as not to frighten them into motion. The fence they followed eventually came within a few dozen paces of the residence, and ahead, an open window spilled amber light onto the ground outside.
Aritane took up position across from the window, peeking at it over the fence as Grevail and Auphen joined him. A table covered with tankards and dishes was visible inside, though not much else, but the faint murmur of voices escaped the building. After a moment of watching the window, Aritane motioned at Auphen. “Go round to the other side,” he whispered. “Be careful.”
Auphen inclined his head and moved onward past them, disappearing into the night.
Though Aritane too looked as calm as if he were going for a stroll, Grevail felt like he struggled to breath. Any flicker of shadow or hint of sound was enough to send his heart racing. Nearby, several cattle lay sleeping beneath Lusin’s purple light, yet some remained awake, heads bent to the ground and tails swishing.
Peeking between the rough logs of the fence at the window, they waited in the cool night for any movement, and after some time, a man with snow-white hair came into view. At the man’s shoulder was a young, dark-haired woman in a cream colored dress whose nose dominated her face.
“Is that Carbathe?” Grevail whispered at Aritane. Although the Delphines had described the man, Grevail had yet to see him except at a distance.
Aritane nodded but did not speak, keeping his eyes trained on the window.
Carbathe walked to the table and sat, but the man who followed him into the room drew Grevail’s eye. He possessed the strangest appearance Grevail had ever seen. His arms were covered in tattoos, in fact, every patch of skin visible below his jawline was tattooed. His head was shaved and he sported a peculiar, braided beard. Other men came to sit at the table too, dressed in black leather jerkins and orange cloth like the strange man, with braided beards and tattoos. Grevail had heard enough tales and legends to have little doubt who these men were.
“Urucan,” Aritane growled. “We must hear every word we can, Grevail. Be quiet…our lives depend on it.” The man squeezed between the logs of the fence to crouch on the other side, then made his way to the Carbathe’s residence, steering wide of the yellowed light the window cast on the ground. Grevail held his breath as Aritane crossed the road, sure that the men inside would notice, but he reached the building without being spotted, then crept down it toward the open window. He waved for Grevail to follow.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Grevail glanced from Aritane, to the Urucan, then back again. Uttering a curse, he squeezed through the fence. He scampered in Aritane’s footsteps, hardly daring to breath for fear of making noise. He did emit a relieved sigh when he reached the building without raising any alarm, and then he too scooted along the wall until he was shoulder to shoulder with Aritane, the open window just beside them.
“Of course I am pleased to have you here at my estate,” said a booming voice inside. “Soon, there will be no need for secrecy.” The words were followed by a chorus of laughter.
“We are pleased to discuss matters with any Eudans who see as clearly as you do, Carbathe,” another man said.
“Most Eudans do not,” Carbathe agreed. “If they did, Daryn would never have been appointed as Khos by Saulderin, or at the very least, would have been removed by Amphid. A commoner? As Khos?” Carbathe scoffed. “That has no place in Eudan, and if everyone believes it does, perhaps I have no place in Eudan!”
“Such a practice has no place in Uruca, I assure you, but as you’ve told us,” the Urucan said, “Tamirra is your birthright.”
“Indeed,” Carbathe again agreed. “I was born to lead her, and I would be now if it wasn’t for that impostor.” A thump sounded, chased by the metallic rattle of silverware. “He seizes every opportunity to make light of this shameful fact. His rule is a farce! I was raised from a babe with my every moment preparing me to one day sit beneath the dome. I spent my youth learning how to behave and what needs to be done. How did Daryn spend his youth? Turning the spit in Saulderin’s kitchens? Ha! This peasant has no idea how to govern my city. The people need a real leader! Ridiculous!”
“Amphid does not appreciate you, Carbathe. He has grown weak and soft. The Epikhos is not the same man his ancestors were…his blood is not what it used to be. He has as much right to land north of the Phantha as a Phocan dancer.”
Carbathe laughed, a thundering guffaw, yet it deflated into a tired sigh. “It is true. All of Eudan has become weak and soft. You know they tremble at the very idea of Urucan crossing the river. It is pathetic! Amphid has allowed the Spades to control the swamp—a thing his forefathers would have never dreamt of doing. The commoners grow poor and go hungry from it. The capital has become a slum because of it. Yet still, the people do nothing. The man is a tyrant and should have been hanged from the highest tower of the palace long ago. People so weak as this are unfit to have a nation!”
“We’ve had word that Daryn sent the Fyrd north.”
“Yes…yes. You heard? Not that the Fyrd are what they used to be either. Brigands in Astranid’s marsh, apparently. I can’t imagine how they might have come to be there!”
Grevail sat in disbelief with mouth agape at what Carbathe was saying. The Delphine’s suspicion of the man certainly seemed warranted now. He glanced at Aritane but the older man was busy listening to the conversation. Surely, Daryn had to be suspicious of Carbathe too.
A sudden commotion inside brought Grevail from his thoughts.
“What was that?” Carbathe said.
“Is someone out there?” said another man.
“Delphines!” Carbathe barked.
In the screeching of chairs and clatter of crockery, a surge of thumping footsteps left the table, heading away from the window. Aritane bolted from the building, grabbing Grevail by the arm and pulling him toward the fence where they both vaulted over.
“Stop!” came a shout from Carbathe’s residence behind them. “Stop there!”
Aritane did not so much as pause and raced into the field with Grevail tight on his heels. The cattle, disturbed by the shouts and potential forms of predators leaping about amongst them, staggered to their feet with fearful bellows and scattered into the night.
Racing across the field, the pounding of distant horse hooves somewhere behind them reached Grevail’s ears as he and Aritane lept over yet another fence. The dark-haired man led Grevail along it in a crouch, toward the hill where they had watched from earlier, and where they were to meet if anything went wrong.
With a start, Grevail remembered Auphen. “What about Auphen?” he asked, following behind Aritane as they left the last fence to traverse between the bushes and boulders beyond the pasture.
“If he escaped, he will be up there,” Aritane said, motioning at the hill.
“What?” Grevail asked, dumbfounded. “They’ll kill him if he got caught, won’t they?”
“It is the risk we take,” Aritane said in a grim voice as they arrived at the bottom of the slope.
Grevail looked to the top of the hill but so no sign of Auphen on the ascent. Lusin hung just above the crest, a fat purple ball nestled among twinkling stars. Aritane began to climb and Grevail followed in his footsteps. They used the few trees protruding from the rocky face as cover, moving from one to the next while below in the valley, riders raced alongside the fields of roiling cattle, calling to each other with angry shouts that echoed in the night.
When Aritane and Grevail clambered to the top, they found the small, flat area empty. “He’s been captured,” Grevail said, a note of disbelief touching his voice.
Aritane grunted, a noise that could have meant anything. “I wouldn’t be sure. Auphen can take care of—” the rustle of brush nearby cut him short.
“You sound disappointed, Grevail,” Auphen said as he stepped from behind a tree. A bright and mischievous smile arced across the young man’s face. “Are you starting to like it here with us?”
“Auphen,” Aritane growled. “This isn’t the time for playing games. Follow me. We must leave before these Urucan get it in their heads to cast the search wider.”
Together with Auphen in tow, they left the hilltop down the opposite side from Carbathe’s estate, leaving the bellowing cattle and calls of the Urucan behind. Around them, the dark landscape lit only by Lusin’s violet gaze was motionless and silent.
Grevail still felt some surprise at what Carbathe said. He had spent his first days with these Delphines thinking they might be mad, but now, he didn’t see how they could be wrong. “You heard what he said, didn’t you, Aritane? Ashes, I think he hates Eudan. What are you going to do?”
Aritane glanced over his shoulder. “I know it may surprise you, Grevail, but we have known these things about Carbathe for some time. Our greatest battle so far has not been fought with him, but with our own people—convincing them to believe what we know. Ashen embers, Auphen, how did you let yourself be seen? Who knows what else they may have spoken about tonight.”
“It was worth it, Aritane,” Auphen said while trailing behind the man. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “You didn’t see him, did you?” When Aritane remained silent, Auphen spoke again. “I saw Patalla.”
Aritane jerked to a stop and turned, eyebrows climbing to his scalp. “You saw him?”
“He was there. I got a bit too close and they saw me…but I would not mistake that tattooed brute for anyone else. Alisia will be over the moon.”
Aritane guffawed and resumed walking. “Now that is good news. Alisia will be pleased indeed.”
“Who is Patalla?” Grevail asked.
“The Urucan prince,” Auphen said. “We believe he is the antagonist behind Carbathe and this whole scheme. If Oda, the Urucan Epikhos has any involvement, we haven’t seen proof of it, though his son may be proof enough. Carbathe has mentioned Patalla several times but tonight is the first time we’ve seen his bearded face. The weight of him and his Toads stepping foot on Eudan soil.”
Aritane’s voice was rough with anger. “Carbathe invited these conspirators into his own home.”
An Urucan prince? Grevail furrowed his brow, wondering just what kind of situation he had mired himself in. Fighting Urucan would get him no closer to Seirod, in fact, it might get him killed. “Aren’t you afraid Carbathe will find out who you are?”
Aritane shook his head. “We will not stop. He knows some of our faces but he can’t respond out in the open…yet. We all know the dangers, Grevail. Alisia may have forgotten to tell you, but the most important rule we Delphines have is that we never talk. I would embrace death before I reveal your names or our plans. The only thing that stands between Carbathe and whatever he plans to do, is us.”
Auphen clapped. “Well said…well said, Aritane. See, Grevail. I told you he is the best Delphine we have. Just don’t let him scare you off with his talk of dying for the cause. That is only a very last resort, otherwise, we intend to stay alive and stop Carbathe.” The young man turned while walking and clapped Grevail on the shoulder. “How does completing your first assignment feel?”
Grevail shook his head. He’d been sneaking around and stealing things his entire life, but never did he steal from nobles like Carbathe—that was a good way to find yourself in an early grave. Of course, he’d never crossed an Urucan either. He’d never even seen one until tonight. Life in Lowtown was no doubt dangerous, but even so, these Delphines possessed a courage far beyond snatching bread to eat. “I’m glad we’re all alive and we got what we needed.” What they needed, he reminded himself. None of this got him any closer to Seirod.
Again, Auphen seemed to sense what was on his mind. “We’ll get to Seirod. He is in this just as deeply as Carbathe. We suspect he has played a pivotal role but we lack the evidence to be certain. The man has proved a tough nut to crack but we’ll open him up and see what is inside. Don’t worry, you’ll have revenge for your friends, Grevail.”
After a few moments of walking along in silence, Aritane spoke. “Do you know who the girl in the dress is, Auphen? Did you see her?”
“Yes, but I don’t know who she is. Odd that Carbathe would have her there…on this of all nights.”
Aritane grunted his agreement. “He must trust her a great deal to meet with such people in her presence. I wonder if she arrived with the Urucan or if we somehow missed her when following Carbathe. Unfortunate that Urucan women do not mark themselves with tattoos like the men do. It would make them easier to spot.”
“Why is it strange she was there?” Grevail asked.
Marching at the head of their little column, Aritane led them further into the night and the road back to Tamirra. “Carbathe does not usually have women at his estates. He once had a wife, though she died some time ago, and while some claim the circumstances of her death were mysterious, no evidence has ever come to light. In any case, Carbathe has made a name for himself recently with his rabid, if unsuccessful pursuit of Lady Erphele. This young woman’s presence may mean his desires have changed, which would be noteworthy…perhaps something we could use.”
Lady Erphele. The name sounded familiar to Grevail but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.