The food, as it was in all of the central market eateries, was perfection. Kiri ate every speck of it. Firebrand work was hungry work; she seemed to need to eat several times normal to replace the energy her hand poured out. When her plate was well and thoroughly clean she looked up to see Neal staring at her over his own half-eaten meal, swirling his once more full wineglass in one hand. She reminded herself that it wouldn’t be dignified to ask if she could finish his food if he wasn’t going to.
Setting her hopes on dessert, Kiri tossed back some wine to wet her dry mouth. “So, I guess this meeting is a chance for me to hear your concerns, too. Do you have any?”
“I have no complaints of the Firebrand at this time,” Neal said. “Boundaries seem well-established.”
Kiri ground her teeth at that, and it was clear her discomfort with those boundaries showed, because Neal pressed on quickly.
“No complaints, but I do wish to speak with you. A matter has come to my attention. One which needs...delicate handling.”
“I’ll do my best,” Kiri said. “But you can’t possibly think I’m the right person for delicate handling.”
“That had occurred to me,” Neal said. “That is why I’ve asked someone else to join us. He should be here shortly. I asked him to join us for lunch, but unfortunately that was impossible. He had a load to complete.”
“Garon?” Kiri said. “Why in Laedinland did you think he would be delicate?”
“Hey!” Garon spoke directly behind her, sending Kiri jumping and her wine spilling onto her empty plate. “I’m more careful than that.”
Kiri looked at her wet plate and couldn’t argue. Garon sat down and gestured for the buxom young lady to fill his glass.
“Hello, Neal,” he said. “I hear business is good.”
“Things are running well,” Neal said. “And you have done well for yourself, as well.”
“Getting better,” Garon said. “A long way to go yet.” And he looked, a slightly sad expression on his face, at Kiri, who squirmed a little and looked down.
Neal’s eyes flicked between them, but he went on as though he had noticed nothing. “As for the matter at hand, you may be curious as to why I asked you here.”
“I thought maybe you wanted to catch up with your good friend,” Garon said.
Neal’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Indeed I remembered your savvy in that earlier matter and thought that you might be helpful in one in which there is need for more of that than simple brute force.”
Kiri was annoyed. Did Neal think she wasn’t capable of more than brute force? Hadn’t she proved she was capable of some nuance by even tolerating Neal for these months? But arguing wouldn’t make her seem like a person of sophistication, so she kept her silence.
Neal leaned back in his chair. He did not move his head but his eyes scanned the room, back and forth. “The Thief Lord has been, as you may know, taking a special interest in Eldan artifacts.”
He fell silent, and the only sound in the room for a moment was the tapping of Kiri’s foot, impatiently clunking against the floor. She stopped moving when she realized it and pursed her lips, giving one sharp nod.
“Most artifacts have been long forgotten, or are remembered only vaguely. But there is one that even our fragmentary stories recall in detail.”
“You’re talking about the Sceptre,” Garon said. “A myth. But…”
“You’ve come to learn that many myths are not so fantastic as you thought,” Neal said. “This one is real, too.”
“Even if it does exist, why would he want it?” Kiri said. “The whole story is about how bad it is and how it ended the rule of the Eldan.”
“That is how you and I hear the story,” Neal said. “But the Thief Lord hears only the power of the Sceptre. I can only assume he does not believe the ending is inevitable. I am not so confident, which is why, upon hearing of this item’s location, I have come to you, instead of going immediately to tell the Thief Lord. I have to tell you, those are my standing orders in this matter, to tell him first. And I will be going to him as soon as we are done here. So you must act with haste.”
“Why are you still going to tell him?” Kiri said. “If you think it’s a bad idea for him to have it, just keep it to yourself.”
“Someone else will tell if I don’t,” Neal said. “And the only reward for my nobility in keeping the secret will be death. I prefer this way. It has a higher chance of success.”
“Plus, this way you’re on the side of whoever wins,” Kiri said.
“Indeed.”
“What do you want us to do?” Garon asked.
“Get it before the Thief Lord does,” Neal said. “Here is all you need to know.” He passed an envelope across the table. The Thief Lord’s sigil was pressed into its wax seal. “Open it somewhere safe, and then memorize and destroy it. Both of you, so that…”
“We get it,” Garon cut him off. He looked over at Neal’s plate, which was still half-full. “Are you going to eat that?”
Neal stood and pushed his plate toward Garon in one motion. “Don’t take too long. I am leaving Laed within the hour.”
“Don’t worry,” Garon said, his mouth already full of food. “I’m a fast eater.”
~
The men scrambled to their feet as Garon came down the ramp toward the dock. He still got a kick out of how they did that. It showed that they took him seriously, that they cared what he thought of them. Even though he had only been officially the boss for a few weeks, he had been subbing for months before that. His crew knew they could count on him.
“What’s next, boss?” Ulrick stood up slowly from the crate he had been sitting on. His joints creaked audibly. The rest of the men had been stretched out in the dirt. Naturally, he had gotten the only seat. He was old. And intimidating.
“Three is ready for us,” Garon said. “But you’re going to oversee the unloading. I’ve got to leave town. Family emergency.”
“Gotcha, boss,” Ulrick said. “That’s the worst kind of emergency.”
“You’re telling me,” Garon said. “While you go down to dock three, I need to borrow Dee off the crew. I’ll send him your way when I’m done with him.”
Dee had been listening along with the rest of the men. They’d all learned it was best to pay attention. Neither Garon nor Ulrick liked to have to repeat orders. Dee stepped forward without being asked. He was ready when Garon slapped a paper into his hand. He looked it over quickly.
“Where should I bring it?” he asked.
“Meet me at the East Gate,” Garon said. “Twenty minutes.”
Dee took off at a run. Garon grinned. It was a long list, and even with his even longer legs Dee would have to work hard to fill it and be there on time. But the boy would be that much prouder for the challenge of it when he got it done. And he would eat up Garon’s praise. Garon didn’t mind giving praise when his boys earned it. Sometimes that meant giving them a way to earn it.
“On your way!” Ulrick called to the other men. They all took off for dock three. Ulrick stayed behind a moment. “Sure you’ll be all right, boss? You can take one of the men with you.”
“Not that kind of emergency,” Garon said. “I’ll be fine. Look after the men. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Ulrick didn’t need telling twice. He nodded and trotted after the men. Garon dropped by his room and pulled out the bag he always kept packed in case...well, just in case. He had time for a pint before he needed to meet Dee and Kiri, so he stopped at the dining room and kicked up his heels, glad to have the chance to gather his breath before the long journey ahead.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
~
Kiri held her hat between her teeth while she jiggled her key in her door. The dorm rooms were old, and the lock stuck sometimes. Kiri pushed her shoulder against the door to get it in the right position and jiggled the key again. Finally the bolt slid into place and Kiri rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her with her heel. She threw the key and her hat onto her bed and yanked her trunk out from underneath it. She rummaged through her things without trying to keep any kind of organization. When she found the thing she was looking for she tossed them up onto the bed without lifting her head. She bent low to grope along the bottom of the trunk for her spare boots. They were heavy enough she expected they would’ve drifted to the bottom. After a few minutes she was forced to admit they weren’t in there. She couldn’t have missed them.
Kiri straightened up and closed and shoved the trunk back under the bed with one foot. She surveyed the untidy pile on the bed and scrunched her nose. Somewhere around here there had to be a bag to put that stuff in.
It took her a long time to find one, but she did find her spare boots while she was looking. They were under the bed, behind the trunk.
~
“It’s upside down.”
Kiri flipped the map over and squinted at it again. It was an old map. They hadn’t been able to afford a new one. The bright sun washed out the faint worn lines so that she could barely make them out.
“It’s too bright to read,” she told Garon. “But this has to be the right way. I can’t see another road on there.”
“There are a lot of farm roads that wouldn’t be on a map,” Garon said. “Have you ever looked at a map of Westfall Valley?”
“Probably,” Kiri said. “I mean, I’m sure I have seen one. But I didn’t need to look, really. I know my way around.”
“Almost all of them only show one road in the valley,” Garon said. “Just the main Falls road from Westbridge straight through.”
“So they don’t show any of the ways out to the farms or the woods at all? Hmm,” Kiri frowned down at the map. “Why don’t they?”
“The map is for traders and travelers,” Garon said. “Farmer’s roads serve neither, and so they aren’t on there. Here, give me the map.”
Kiri handed it over. It tried to catch the wind and blow away. If it were only a little cooler the wind would be refreshing, but it only brought more heat, like a blast from the bread ovens Kiri had worked back at The Leaning Pillar.
Garon studied the map. He laid it across the back of his horse’s neck and leaned over to shade it from the sun as much as possible. After a few minutes’ silent puzzling, while Kiri fidgeted and picked dirt out from under her fingernails and her mare munched placidly at the grass, he folded the map up.
“This isn’t the road we want,” he declared. “I was worried when he passed the turning by the well and it narrowed. No one has brought a wagon this way in years, if they ever did.”
“So we have to go back?” Kiri sighed and started to turn her mare.
“No, no,” Garon said. He brought his horse close to hers. Both mares were so laid back they didn’t mind bumping at all. They didn’t even pay attention to it. Garon pointed to the southeast, the line of his arm guiding Kiri’s eyes as he reached past her. “We’ll make straight for the space between those two hills, there. We’ll strike the correct road before we reach them, then it should be easy enough to reach the waystation by night.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Kiri said. “I couldn’t make out anything on that map. Are you sure it’s a good idea to ride cross-country here? I don’t want to come across a gully we can’t cross or something.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Garon said. “I’ve gone out with a wagon train or two, you know.”
Kiri had actually forgotten all about that, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. It was years before she left Westfall, before her father died, even. He’d been gone for only a few weeks at a time, and back then she’d spent a lot of time in the shop working with her father. She didn’t remember missing him, or thinking much about what he was doing. She couldn’t imagine being like that now. Garon was the only person she really knew anymore. Sometimes she spent time with Yensa, and that was fun, but the secret of being the Firebrand kept her from a close relationship. With Garon she didn’t have to be guarded. She was actually embarrassed that he felt he had to defend himself to her, when she really knew so little about travel. She did respect his opinion, but the old habits she and Mala had formed when Garon was just Mala’s goofy brother still got in the way.
Kiri put her hand on Garons’ shoulder and waited a moment until he looked her in the eye. “Sorry. I trust you,” she said. “Let’s go.”
~
The Eastern Great Road didn’t cut straight across the country from Laed toward Belir, even allowing for the usual routing around difficult terrain. Instead it took a large bend to the south, making for Aga, the capital of Hilland, where Lord Fel sat on the Gold Throne. Most wagon trains out of Laed were headed that way. Fel had many vassals, all of them rich from the spices which grew on the hills and the gold that lay under them. They were free with their coin, and most merchants did not want to miss out. But if for whatever reason a trip to Hilland wasn’t on the agenda, a more direct route did exist. It was a path of beaten dirt instead of paved stone, which worked as an extra incentive for wagon trains to take the Great Road rather than risk getting stuck or breaking an axle. But it was a much faster way, and went straight across the fertile farmland that lay between Laed and the Brightwood. It was called, appropriately enough, the Swiftway. And it was swift, but not easy.
Travelers who took the Great Road would encounter many small towns along the way. Commerce followed the wagon trains, with trade going both ways from the farmers who came to buy the wares to the merchants, and from the merchants to the pockets of the innkeepers. Some merchants even bought directly from the farmers, but it had be handled carefully. These were the king’s lands here, and any food grown was his claim first. Every farmer’s share was his to do with as he pleased, but most had only enough to feed their own families. A man selling grain without the king’s warrant should be suspect. But some farm families were crafters, too. Kiri had a soft knitted blanket folded on the back of her saddle which she had bought from a farm wife at the town near Laed where she and Garon had stopped last night. That town was located where they had broken off the main road to go the Swiftway, and they weren’t going to encounter another. Along the Swiftway there were no little trading outpost towns, only waystations, unmanned, placed one day’s ride apart. With their accidental detour onto the farm road, Garon said they would have to push their horses so that they would reach the first station before dark.
“Is it dangerous out here after dark?” Kiri asked.
“I’ve never been here before,” Garon said. “But it’s never a good choice to stay out at night if there’s a place indoors available.”
Kiri couldn’t argue with that, but she felt bad pushing her old mare, though she seemed almost immune to the nudging of Kiri’s heels anyway. Her hide must have thickened with age. They managed to make good enough time that the setting sun kissed the horizon behind their backs just as the way station came into view. It was tucked into a stand of trees, half hidden. The first they noticed it was by the light of the sun thrown back at them by its glass windows. Kiri was surprised to see such a luxury as real glass, and as they drew closer she saw that the whole building was well built. It was not at all the sort of ramshackle hut she’d expected to find, being as it was only a shelter of necessity. It was built of the same sort of wood as the trees, which was what had allowed it to hide so well. The roof was high-peaked to shed snow in the winter without any need for someone to come and shovel the stuff off. There was a small stable tucked right against the building, with enough space in each clean stall that Kiri didn’t feel at all bad about sending the mares in with a gentle pat on their necks. Garon pumped and brought them water. Someone must come and maintain the place, because the pump worked smoothly and didn’t have a hint of rust. It was possible that travelers were mucking the stables to leave them behind in the same state they found them, but it was unlikely they were cleaning and oiling the pump.
Once their horses were settled, Kiri and Garon hoisted their packs onto their backs and went into the main building. The front door was heavy, latched but not locked. Kiri pulled back the latch and pushed it open smoothly. It moved without a creak. She walked into one large room which seemed to take up the entire ground floor of the building. It was lined on two sides by windows, the ones on the west laying the last light of the sun in long rectangles across the table and chairs that took up that side of the room. Behind the table, on the back wall, was a cut-stone fireplace, with a neat pile of wood next to it. The other half of the room was open, empty of anything but a narrow flight of stairs.
Kiri moved aside to let Garon look the room over. “Do you think there are beds up there?”
“Could be,” Garon said. “The king’s grandfather had these waystations built when his sister married the Lord of Belir.”
“That’s why it’s so nice, then,” Kiri said. “I was wondering. But that’s a long time ago. Even if they didn’t want a princess to sleep on the floor, the beds might not be there any more.”
“Only one way to find out,” Garon led the way up the stairs. Kiri paused to dump her pack on the table and slip out the bedroll she had strapped to the top, then trotted up after him.
There were beds, but just the frames.
Garon groaned. “Are we supposed to carry mattresses around?”
Kiri pushed on the bed slats experimentally. “They seem sturdy. Maybe the slats are close enough together we could just use our bedrolls.”
“If they were thicker, maybe,” Garon said. “This would feel like laying on a fence.”
“Only one way to find out,” Kiri said. She whipped her bedroll open, which was always fun, anyway, so she didn’t mind if she had to roll it back up and unroll it somewhere else if this didn’t work. Normally she would flop into bed, but with the fragility of the situation in mind, she carefully lowered herself onto bed.
She could feel a little bit of a fence-like sensation, but it seemed at first that it might work. But then she moved, just a little, and the two slats above and below her hips slid apart, lowering her hindquarters slowly but inexorably toward the floor. She flailed around ungracefully in the attempt to get out.
Garon, bent over laughing, offered her a hand. She resisted the urge to slap it away in annoyed embarrassment, instead grabbing tight. It took two hard pulls to extract her from the bed. She gained her feet abruptly and stumbled against Garon. Still laughing, he looked down, straight down, right at her. Kiri was very aware of just how close he was to her. She looked down quickly and took a step back.
“Well, that doesn’t work,” she said. She snuck a glance at him, but finding his piercing eyes looking right back, quickly dropped her gaze again. “Guess it’ll be the floor for us. Should we even bother sleeping upstairs? There was plenty of room down below.”
“We should sleep downstairs,” Garon said.
“Then we can put that fireplace to use. I’ll make biscuits if you build the fire.”
“How about the other way around?” Garon said. “Your fresh biscuits are as hard as trail bread.”
“I’m offended,” Kiri said. “But you’re right. You cook. Besides, I am much faster at building a fire than you.” And she wiggled the fingers of her gloved hand, which was only the slightest bit hotter in the palm than the other.
“Cheater.”