Category: watercolors

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12-Tribute

I made a careful search of my tiny chambers before cleaning up and again crawling into the deliciously comfortable bed. I didn’t find any peep holes or slits in the walls, just a fresh set of clothes hanging in the wardrobe. It wasn’t unreasonable for the Captain of the Guard to talk to one of the most influential leanyodi, but he’d made such a big deal about rumors I found it irritating that an entire day hadn’t gone by before he’d blabbed.

Quill and I had lingered over the letters after Eliah had gone to bed. He sifted through them over and over, and I’d told him everything Galo had told me. Galo hadn’t anything about the young Empire to the north beyond Angareth’s desire to remain independent. But when I closed my eyes, I could almost feel its borders, far north and east, like an old sadness lingering at the back of my mind.

It took longer than I wanted to fall sleep, and when I awoke in the morning my fingers were curled around the hilts of Shiharr and Azzad. I itched for a fight but had to content myself with stretches before I dressed for the day. The clothes were the same cut as the day prior, but a deep purple. I had just finished applying generous kohl to my eyes when Galo arrived in the same purple clothes and applied the white streak across my cheeks to match hers. Another morning of audiences before we spent the afternoon preparing for the trip to Gar Morwen.

“Galo,” I said, as soon as she was putting the white paint away, “How did you know I used the Villaban salute? I have never saluted the Countess in that fashion.”

A faint red flush tinged her cheeks and she straightened her back, tucking the paint case into a pocket. “It’s my business to know.”

I arched my brow, “The Captain of the Guard reports to you?”

“Only when he’s been shut up in the chambers of one of the leanyodi,” retorted Galo with more bite than I’d expected.

I recoiled a bit, “Galo,” it was as unsettling as calming a spooked horse you’d previously found unshakable, “Captain Druskin insisted on testing my fighting skill. I insisted on not being the only leanyodi to train with him in the yard because I’m supposed to blend in. Sparring with the door open would have been worse.”

“Yes,” Galo sniffed, “I’m aware.” She pushed the bedroom door open and I followed her out, wondering what in Serrifis Quill had gotten me into. We were almost to the kitchens before I felt Galo’s hackles lower.

The kitchen was a long, bustling room with a stone floor and a ceiling of wooden beams. Pots, pans, and drying herbs hung from the beams, and long wooden table filled the whole center of the room. A fireplace flanked by a company of stone ovens took an entire wall. A doorway led to another kitchen on the other side of the fireplace wall. Servants were everywhere, either eating at the long table or tending the fires or chopping or stirring. The scent of onions and herbs tickled my nose. Three leanyodi also clad in purple were just finishing their breakfast at the table. I recognized two of them as having been with us in the hall yesterday. Both brunettes, the brown eyed one was Brell—who had said Ilya Terr was handsome—and the blue eyed one was Karolya. I did not know the third, who had black hair and was bent over a ledger, with a pile of papers and her half-finished breakfast beside her.

“Good morning,” said Galo, brightly, as if she hadn’t steamed at me the whole way down here.

“Galo,” smiled Brell as she stood up, “Karolya and I were just about to go to the hall to make sure everything is ready for the last of the audiences.”

“Perfect,” Galo sat at the table, and I slipped onto the bench across from her.

Karolya looked at me as she stood up, “How are you feeling after your first day of standing?”

“I’m well,” I gave her a small smile. I probably looked tired, but it was due more to fitful sleep than the prior day’s duties.

Karolya reached over and squeezed my hand, “You’ll get used to it. The first week is the hardest.”  She looked to Galo, “Galo.”

“I’ll see you in the hall,” replied Galo in acknowledgement.

As soon as Brell and Karolya walked away, a servant placed bowls of white mush in front of us. Galo bowed her head and I followed suit before digging in. I did not love the white mush, though it was rich in onion and bacon flavors for some mysterious reason. It was food, so I ate it.

“Hadella,” Galo turned to the remaining leanyod, “How are preparations for the journey?”

Hadella’s head snapped up as if she hadn’t even noticed we were here. “Galo, good morning.” Her eyes shifted to me, “Zephra, is it? Good to see you.”

“Good morning,” I replied.

“These are the accounts from yesterday, I’ve been working on them since audiences ended yesterday.” Hadella sighed heavily, “It’s always this way before a long journey, everything has to be done ahead of time and then new work appears where there wasn’t any.”

“Are there normally gifts when she holds audience days?” I asked, making myself start another bite of mush.

“No,” Hadella took a quick bite of her own food before turning back to the ledger, “Tribute is in the fall. This…this is sentiment.”

Galo put in, “These are wedding gifts, they are proper.”

“They are,” said Hadella, making a little mark in the book, “But I have a great many letters to write this morning once I’m done here, and before I review the steward’s preparations for the journey to Gar Morwen. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Galo shifted so she was turned slightly away from Hadella, signifying just how much she wasn’t going to interrupt the leanyod’s work. “Hadella runs most of the day-to-day for Wuhnravinwel,” Galo explained. “Brell has a gift for languages, Karolya understands farming and the needs of the earth…Each of us has a particular role to play for the Countess.”

“What’s yours?” I asked, before I could evaluate if that was a safe question.

“I manage the leanyodi,” answered Galo, “I make sure the Countess has everything she needs.” Her eyes flicked at me, “I’m in charge of you.”

I swallowed the last of my mush in a final effort and flashed her a smile. “Lucky you.” I tipped my head at Hadella, “What letters is she writing?”

“One of the reasons the Countess is so loved: they are letters of thanks for the gifts. Normally, at the time of Tribute, she sends one letter to each town. On good years, there is a gift with it of some sort—usually a cask of something intended for the Festival of Lights—but when even a lowborn family brings her a gift, she sends a letter saying thank you.” The leanyod’s face softened, “Even those who cannot read treasure her letters. What lord bothers to say thank you for his due?”

 

*

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10-Letters

At the end of the audiences, my muscles ached from standing and the only thing I wanted was the gorgeous sunken tub. And dinner, of course. The Countess also looked tired, and left the great hall immediately to have a private dinner in her chambers. A different set of leanyodi went with her while the six of us who’d been with her all day scattered. Before I could sneak off to find the kitchens, Galo caught my eye and beckoned me to follow. She led me through the fortress and back up the winding stairs to the chamber with the bookshelves and the telescope where we’d met the Countess the night before.  Galo went to a little desk tucked behind one of the bookshelves and unlocked a drawer. She handed me a stack of letters ten deep, tied with a ribbon. I untied the ribbon and thumbed the stack. “This seems excessive.”

Galo crossed her arms, “It’s a blood feud.”

I looked up at her in surprise, “Some of these have seals!”

She nodded.

As if she’d misunderstood me, I held up the stack, pointing to red wax pressed deep by a signet ring.

“It’s a blood feud,” repeated Galo. “Many of the lords were very angry when they heard what the King had agreed to.”

I walked to one of the narrow tables and sank into one of its chairs, flipping through the letters more slowly this time. “This really doesn’t seem like…the sort of thing one does if actually contemplating treason.” Fully six of the letters had seals.

“It is unlikely any of these lords will take further action,” said Galo, closing and locking the drawer again and coming to sit in a chair across the table from me. “They have made their statement.”

I tapped one of the letters, “This one isn’t very threatening—Adorjan Bulgar sounds more like a disconsolate lover.”

Galo pursed her lips. “Well, he’s disconsolate. Certainly.”

“‘The flower of your beauty should not be uprooted and flung on the ungrateful elves,’” I read, “Or further on, ‘Do not waste your heart so,’ then ‘it would pollute the springs.’”

“As if she could deny our king,” muttered Galo, plucking lint off her sleeve.

I turned to study her. Though we’d been standing a few feet from one another most of the day, I hadn’t had much chance to evaluate or speak to Galo. I knew from our first meeting that she was direct, at least. She had thick, straight hair that was almost black. It was currently twisted into an elaborate pile on her head but strands were escaping after so many hours. Her skin was olive, darker than mine, and the white streak painted across her cheekbones stood out starkly in the fading light. “How do you feel about the treaty?”

She returned my measuring look. “I support my lady.”

I waited.

With a sigh Galo continued, “The treaty is difficult for her, but she has been expecting it for some time. Neither Angareth nor Terrimbir can face the Empire of Daiesen alone, and neither wishes to forfeit their freedom. We need more than uneasy peace, we need alliance. This marriage binds the royal families and settles the oldest part of their dispute. My lady understands its importance, as do I and the other leanyodi. Lord Ilya Terr seems noble enough, but even if he was not, my lady would bear it.”

Nodding, I turned back to the letters.

After a moment of silence, Galo asked, “How did you become a mercenary?”

When I looked up, Galo was watching me closely, and it took great effort not to stiffen.

She continued, leaning forward, “Female mercenaries are usually the daughters of knights, but you are not just the daughter of a knight. You speak Angari with the accent of a noble, and carried yourself all day as a lady of breeding. You have clearly studied our customs but they are not your customs, and you use the Villaban salute. You are of marriable age—probably should be married already—yet wear no ring.”

I swallowed.  So, Galo had talked to Druskin. The man would start rumors himself.

“Are you a bastard?”

My mouth opened in surprise.

Galo’s lips tipped in a satisfied smile.

Recovering, I sucked in a breath and asked, “Why are you not in charge of this investigation?”

She snorted. “I am a leanyod. Answer the question.”

I looked at the letters, measuring my response before I looked back at her. “My father is a lord in Cartahayna.” Smuggling lord. “I have not been home in some time.” Not to any of the places I’d called home.

Galo sat back, pleased with herself. Then she said, “Has anyone told you what prompted the King to hire Quilleran?”

“No, but I’m interested.”

“Someone tried to drop a roofing tile on my lady when she was walking in the King’s garden. Druskin barely pulled her away in time.”

“It wasn’t an accident?”

“Of course not. No one was supposed to be working on the roof that day, and when the guards made it to the roof there was no sign of anyone. Two days later, there was a venomous snake left in a basket outside the Countess’s door.”

“Did no one tell Quilleran when he was hired?”

Galo shook her head.

“He was hired to find who wants to kill her, and not told there had been attempts made—just a stack of mean-spirited letters that are signed?”

“He was hired in public; the King did not see fit to tell the public everything.”

I bit my tongue. Galo didn’t need to hear me snarling about how there were plenty of opportunities to give Quill information in private.

“Besides,” continued Galo, “It is Druskin who needs to keep guards on the rooftops now. Not Quilleran.”

My scoff slipped out, but before Galo could respond the door opened and a servant came in carrying a tray of steaming food. I brightened. The servant set the tray on the table next to us, and left when Galo thanked and dismissed her. There were two bowls of stew, along with two cups and a decanter of wine. I moved the letters aside, breathing in the sage and rosemary scent of the stew. “Tell me about the lords who sent these letters, Galo. And anything you know about the treaty negotiations.”

*

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7-Proper Greetings

 

 

The five of us fell in behind the servant. He hauled all our weapons in a roll of canvas as he led us down a different winding stair and down a long hallway lit by iron lamps faced with colored glass. A pair of heavy doors at the end of the hallway led to a long and relatively narrow chamber. Windows covered with heavy drapes lined one wall, a huge hearth flanked by four ornate doors dominated the inner wall. Cushioned furniture was arranged in little conversational groups throughout the glorified hallway. We filed in like ducks, and the servant deposited the roll of weapons on a narrow table by the entrance. He proceeded to the furthest doors and opened them, bowing saying, “Kimro Ruddybrook,” then opening a closer set, “Quilleran.” The servant bowed again and exited back the way he’d brought us.

As soon as the door closed Eliah looked at me, “Rabbit!”

I threw my arms around her. “Butcher.” Then I turned and embraced Jemin. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Zephra,” replied the burly man, his teeth flashing white behind his beard as we stepped away. He clasped hands with Quill and Ayglos. “Always good to see the Ruddybrooks.”

Jemin and Eliah both knew our real names, and why we weren’t using them.

Ayglos started to prowl around the room, looking at the furniture and tapestries. “You were not exaggerating when you said they treat the Countess like a queen.”

Quill crossed to a couch near the fire and sprawling across it. “My impression has been that the old clan chiefs—who are now Counts and Countesses—are treated like kings and queens in their own holdings. They serve the King with the same reverence they themselves command.” Quill looked at Eliah, “Anything interesting happen while I was away?”

I moved to the weapons and began picking out my knives and returning them to their hiding places. No one else moved toward the table, but no one else was moving to a different part of the castle. Rabanki left Ayglos’s shoulder to come alight on the table of knives, plucking at the pommels. I glared warningly at the bird. Rabanki cocked his head in innocence.

Behind me, Jemin said, “Eliah had a shooting contest with Druskin.”

“Rat,” quipped Eliah.

“Very low profile,” said Quill dryly. “Who won?”

Eliah gave an indignant snort. “I did!”

When I looked, Quill had his face in his hands.

“He started it,” continued Eliah, “he invited Jemin to spar and didn’t believe me when I said I was a good shot.”

“And being right is no fun if no one knows,” put in Jemin, then he laughed.

I turned in time to see the dark look Eliah had leveled at the burly man. The daughter of a king’s huntsman, Eliah had turned out to be a natural with a bow. A skill that had radically changed her life and made her an asset to any crew. In the three years I’d known the gregarious woman, archery was the only thing for which she had patience. I picked up my last, and finest, daggers, and slid them into the sheaths on my back, “How was the southern tip of the continent?”

“Hot,” said Eliah.

“Did you see any dinrodiles?” asked Ayglos, coming to sit in a nearby chair. Rabanki left the knives and alighted on the back of Ayglos’s chair.

“Only at dinner. Tastes like catfish scrambled up with boar,” said Jemin.

“That sounds disgusting.” I dropped onto the chair closest to the fire. It was undoubtedly stuffed with feathers, and I thought I might never get up.

“I liked it well enough,” shrugged Jemin, crossing to the fireplace and investigating the tea service that dominated a small table.

“While we’re all here,” interrupted Quill, collecting himself from his sprawl to an upright position that still, somehow, took up the entire couch, “And before Zare is swept away from us, we need to talk about a few things.”

“Yes, as it turns out there are great many things I don’t love about this job,” I crossed my ankles and folded my fingers across my stomach.

Eliah smirked. “Lucky you with the upbringing and language training to fit in with courtly functions.”

“I should have been a peasant.” But I smiled as I accepted a cup of hot tea from Jemin.

Quill ignored us. “Zare will be a leanyod, so we won’t be able to communicate freely with her. If anyone asks, we met her in Wuhnravinwel when we met the rest of the Countess’s people. Everyone at the court knows that the King hired me to snoop around—not that he asked in public—they also saw Eliah when we made our initial visit. So, Eliah and I will play the part of visitors at court, mingling, doing as much investigating as we can with everyone well aware of our purpose.” Quill paused to accept the cup Jemin offered him. “They have not seen Jemin or Ayglos, so they are our shadows in the city. I expect to be kept apprised of all the gossip in the taverns and alleys and marketplaces.”

Ayglos and Jemin both grinned.

“We need to find out who stands to gain from the death of the Countess,” I added.

“Or from a war with Terrimbir,” said my brother.

“That’s where we start,” agreed Quill. He turned to me, “Once you leave this room tonight, we’ll need to be very careful how we communicate with you. Only a handful of people here are to know about your connection to me, and no one at Gar Morwen does. We need to establish a time and place to meet daily, both here and at Gar Morwen.”

I nodded, “I’ll talk to the Countess tomorrow.” Then I doffed my tea, “Find out what they’re going to do with me.”

“It’ll be fun, Zare,” Ayglos steepled his fingers, “Code words and secret meeting places.”

“Just another day in the life, Fox,” I replied, “I meant, what sort of responsibilities they’ll give. There is always at least one leanyod with the Countess. They stand behind her chair in meetings, on judgement days, sit beside her at feasts…At night, two of them sleep in an antechamber should she need anything…they go to meetings and represent her to the farthest reaches of her holdings.” I paused to sip my tea, then added, “I might be chained to her side for the next while.”

“You’ll have to find some way to get away,” said Quill, “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to kidnap you.”

 

*

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Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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6-Angareth

Wimshel was four weeks from the borders of Angareth, but we made the journey in three. Our horses were fit, and Quill was in a hurry to get back. Our longest waking stop was to deposit our cash from the last few jobs and for Ayglos to dye his hair dark again. He dyed his hair nearly black, so he could more easily blend in amongst the dark-haired peoples of Angareth. I was glad of the travel days to get used to the new color when I looked at him.

We kept the Mountains of Imbir always on our right, the monstrous Mount Anlor at the end of the range coming closer with every stride. We spent the whole trip going over everything we knew about Angareth, Terrimbir, their customs, history and powerful players. When we were alone, we spoke in Angari. Brushing up on a tongue my brother and I hadn’t needed much since we’d been taught as children.

Quill explained that his arrival at the court of Angareth had been public, and he suspected half the nobility knew the King had hired him. Ayglos and I would not be known to the court or associated with him or his mission and could more easily spy. He had, in fact, been avoiding the Angari merchants on the off chance that they’d recognize him, or me if they if they returned to Angareth during our job. I’d tossed my hair and warned him that his plan would never work because I was nothing if not memorable.

Once we rounded the tip of the mountain range and cut west, the land before us rose and shifted into rolling hills that were shrouded in heavy mist every morning. We were in Angareth, headed for Wuhnravinwel, the seat of the Wuhn clan. It was a small fortified enclave near the Juni River situated between the contested hot springs and the capital city, Gar Morwen.

“Will we see the famous hot springs?” I asked.

“No time,” Quill replied, “We’d have to cut back north and head for the border with Terrimbir. It’d add at least a day to our journey, maybe two.”

“Pity, I wouldn’t mind a soak in magic healing water,” I stretched my arms and arched my back, reins abandoned on the saddlebow as our horses jogged.

Quill glanced at me and arched a brow, “What do you need healing for?”

“I have this awful sore spot where my money used to be.”

Occasionally, we saw herds of sheep in the distance, or a tendril of smoke from a homestead, but we managed to avoid people even when we crossed roads. When the stone walls of Wuhnravinwel rose on the horizon we held back and spent the afternoon sitting in a dell playing cards and waiting for Rabanki to return. The raven rejoined us just as our refuge dropped into twilight and I started to wish for a warm fire. Ayglos received the canister in Rabanki’s claw and withdrew a tiny scroll. He read it and looked up, “They’ll be in the observatory,” he said, handing the scroll to Quill. “Instructions for getting in.”

We saddled up our horses and waited until the hills were truly black, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights and the spectacular spread of stars above. Then, wrapped and hooded in cloaks, we crossed the grasslands. We circled wide around the stone walls until we reached the fortress rising from the walls in a glorious array of towers. A guard was waiting for us by a narrow door cut directly into the stone, I saw the gleaming teeth of a portcullis above our heads as the guard exchanged a few words with Quill. We dismounted when instructed and led the horses right through the wall and down a tight little hallway which dumped us into the stables. The horses stayed behind with a couple stable hands while we followed the guard.

He led us through a very tidy stable, then turned up a narrow stone stair that climbed in circles up into the keep. We passed narrow arched doorways looking into stone rooms and stone halls, all hung with tapestries I wished I had time to examine. My legs were starting to wobble when the guard stopped, moved aside and motioned to an archway. Quill nodded and stepped through, I followed and Ayglos came behind me. A short hallway, where we were received by a pair of guards who made us disarm, then we were in a circular chamber with a domed roof. Bookshelves lined the walls and several tables with chairs were scattered around the room. I saw a telescope by the window on the far side of the room. That was another thing I would like to examine further given the chance.

There were six people waiting for us. I grinned when I saw the familiar barrel-chested, full-bearded, form of Jemin and the choppy blonde hair of Eliah. Eliah’s answering grin was a wicked white slash while Jemin simply dipped his chin. Proper greetings would come later.

My eyes skipped to a young woman with dark hair, standing ramrod straight in a long burgundy gown. A collar of dyed red feathers swooped up and fanned behind her head like a peacock’s tail. She was beautiful, or I thought she would be under all the cosmetics. Her face was powdered an unnatural white, kohl lined her eyes in exaggerated swoops and her lips, which were pressed in a thin line, were painted as dark as her dress.  She was flanked by two men, one of which had a long white beard and long collared coat, while the other had a long black ponytail and a sword strapped to his waist. Behind them, a few steps away, was another young woman, clad in a sweeping collared coat in a similar style to that of White Beard, but burgundy like the Countess’s gown, most likely one of her leanyodi, her handmaidens.

Quill bowed deeply, Ayglos and I followed suit behind him, Rabanki spread his wings to keep his balance on Ayglos’s shoulder. I thought I saw the eyebrow of the black-haired man twitched upward. I held his gaze when I straightened. He was probably in his late thirties, with black eyes and a scar on his jaw. Druskin, the captain of her guard, judging from Quill’s descriptions.

“Grofnu Adelheid,” said Quill, in Angari.

The woman inclined her head, replying in Angari “Quilleran, we’re glad to see you returned, and in good time.” Her eyes swept over me and Ayglos. “I trust these are the crew members you were seeking?”

“Indeed. Allow me to introduce Kimro Ruddybrook, my new shadow,” Quill gestured to Ayglos, “and Zephra Ruddybrook, your new leanyod.”

Her eyes flicked back to me in surprise. “New leanyod?”

“That’s preposterous!” barked the man with the white beard. Pontikel, her Chief Advisor.

The girl in robes, the real leanyod, looked like she agreed.

“Leanyodi are always with the Countess, always female, and no one would expect one so trained in combat,” Quill explained.

“You were not hired as a bodyguard,” reminded the Countess, her tone unruffled, as if she had no stake in the exchange.

“I was hired to find out who is trying to kill you,” Quill continued carefully, “The best way to do so involves someone I can trust close enough to you watching what’s going on.” Quill’s eyes flicked to Druskin, the captain of the guard, “And I’m sure you can see how having someone without entanglements in Angareth or Terrimbir, whose only priority is this mystery and the Countess’s safety, is valuable. Even without considering her fighting ability.”

Druskin was stone faced.

“Leanyodi are her most trusted advisors and servants,” Pontikel shook his head, “They carry out her most sensitive errands.” He shook his head again, “It’s a tremendous honor. You cannot desecrate the tradition in this manner! It’s an affront! An abomination!”

“Pontikel,” the Countess lifted a hand and the white beard cut off his tirade. But he threw up his hands, snarled, and spun on his heels like he was going to leave, then he thought better of it and circled back. When he stopped moving the Countess gestured to her captain of the guard, “Druskin?”

Druskin looked at the Countess, then turned an appraising eye on me. I lifted my chin. If there was anything I could stand under, it was the critical eye of a warrior. After a moment he said, “Quilleran’s idea is a good one.”

Pontikel threw up his hands again.

The Countess turned to the leanyod, “Galo?”

Galo looked at the Countess, rolled her lips together, and looked at me. I met her eye. She looked back at the Countess, “Can she read?”

My mouth opened.

“Because,” continued Galo, “If she can’t read it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Quill turned to me, brow arched. “Can you?”

I was filled with an overwhelming desire to slug him. Instead, I took a step forward, “My Lady,” I said in Angari, “I can read, and I would be happy to demonstrate.”

“Please do,” said Galo, pulling a book off a random shelf and walking up to me. She offered me the leather-bound volume.

I accepted it, “You could have picked something more scintillating than The History of Ink.”

Galo’s lips twitched.

I flipped open the book, “‘Chapter One: Cephalopods,’” I glanced up, “More interesting than I expected.” Then I began, “‘The cephalopod family of sea creatures is most known for its tentacles and for the ability some have to secrete a cloud of black or blue ink when attempting to confuse predators so it can—’”

“Stop.” The Countess held up her hand.

I stopped, closed the book and handed it back to Galo. Any feeling of smugness was tainted by the ridiculous.

“Very well, Quilleran,” the Countess dark lips tipped upward ever so slightly, “Your Zephra Ruddybrook will be one of my leanyodi, starting tomorrow. If she succeeds while here in Wuhravinwel, then she may stay in that position in Gar Morwen, also. Galo, make sure she is provided with clothes and a room near the other leanyodi.”

Galo nodded, expressionless as she tucked the book under her arm and returned to her place behind the Countess.

“Is there anything else?” the Countess was looking at Quill.

“I’m sending Kimro and Jemin ahead of us to Gar Morwen, they will leave tomorrow.”

“Very well. Your quarters are the same, I will have a servant bring you there. Galo will fetch Zephra when her rooms are ready.” The Countess turned and glided out of the room, her back straight and her gown trailing behind her, her captain of the guard just a step beyond it. The white-bearded counselor spared me a sour look as he, too, followed the Countess. Galo was the last to leave, pausing to the re-shelve The History of Ink before heading to the arched doorway. The moment she stepped out, a servant stepped in and gestured for us to follow.

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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1-Monsters in the Water

I had spent three days perched in a gnarly oak tree watching for monsters, and I was bored. My branch extended over a little river, commanding clear view of the river and the fields on either side—not that there was anything to see. Cattle lazed peacefully in tall green grass to my left. Plowed earth filled the world to my right. Behind me, if I looked, I would see the distant blue ridge of the Phas Mountains. A pretty view. The river in front of me was wide and lazy and had many places where the banks dipped low, and many other places you could swim in deep, clear pools.

Quiet.

Good fishing.

And no monsters in sight.

I chewed on a stalk of grass, absently watching the tip toss. The thing about hunting was that you couldn’t bring a book.

Spring was bleeding into summer and the days were warm enough that I’d ditched my leather jerkin on the first day out here. The breeze obligingly licked through the linen shirt I wore under my harness of knives, soothing the burn of the late afternoon sun.

A three-note whistle came from upriver. My brother, Ayglos, checking in on his younger sister. I removed the grass long enough to repeat the three-note whistle back.

My brother had gotten us this monster hunting job. We were fresh off a job tracking down a bounty—a murderer we’d caught up with just a few days ride from here. Ayglos had gone into Tanglewood Springs for supplies while I took a nap in a puddle of sunshine. Of the two of us, he was less notable, so he did most of the errands when we were riding together.

At the outfitter, he’d struck up a conversation with a Master Hadrake’s foreman. Turns out, Master Hadrake’s cattle were disappearing, and his herdsmen swore up and down that a scaled beast with hideous claws had risen from the river to claim the cows. It had gotten so bad most of the herdsmen refused to come anywhere near the river and the foreman was hitting up all the taverns and outfitters in Wimshell looking for new herdsmen. Ayglos had offered a different service. “Can’t pass up an ‘easy job,’” I muttered, biting down on the grass. Any chance to earn good money. It’s not like we had anywhere else to be for a few months. It was only a small comfort that Ayglos was sitting in a tree at another major watering spot. Just as bored as I was.

If I hadn’t seen massive clawed, webbed, tracks, in the soft river bank I would have assumed Master Hadrake was being robbed. I’d never heard of a river monster this far north. Though, despite being half-nymph, we’d spent rather less time hunting water monsters than one might suppose.

After three days of sitting in a tree by the herd’s favorite watering spot with nothing but insects and my thoughts for company, I was returning to the cattle rustler theory. We had tried to question the river itself when we first arrived, but it had been vague and uncooperative. Maybe the river thought we were crazy.

My stalk of grass snapped, and I nearly fell off the branch as I lunged to snatch it before it fell out of reach.

An uncertain moo sounded below. I looked down to see a cow craning her head to look at me, her large brown eyes set in a wide piebald face, ears flicking attentively. The whole herd was behind her, having picked their way over to the river while I’d been engrossed in my thoughts.

“It’s alright,” I told the cow, “I’m not the monster.” I waved vaguely at the river.

Her ears flicked. Unconvinced.

“I’m not. Go drink, I’m sure you’re thirsty.”

Cows were such skeptical creatures. I supposed they had a right, having lost several of their compatriots to the river in the past few weeks.

I swung my legs over the side of the branch and bowed at the waist, “Word of honor, my good cow, I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, am not the one killing your sistren.”

Eloi help me. Three days alone in a tree, and I, Zare Caspian of Galhara, Daughter of Zam the Great, Ghost of Nelia, Curse of the Empire, was losing my mind.

The cow blinked at me, as if agreeing with my thoughts. Then, with a shake of her head she turned and strolled to the water. Three others followed her down the slope to the water’s edge, and two waded in to drink half submerged. More from the herd started to amble over. I watched them, grass dangling from my fingers as my mind wandered far away to another river, swift and deep, that ran beside a breathtaking stone palace.

One of the cows vanished under the water with a bovine shriek. I cursed. Water churned, the black hooves of the cow breaking the surface in a desperate kick before a scaled ridge arched over them and both disappeared in a cloud of silt…and then blood…bellowing filled the air as the other cows fled. Leaping to my feet I drew a long knife and barely remembered to whistle for Ayglos before diving into the river.

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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Title Reveal

It’s all fun and games until someone is stuck wearing hoop skirts and playing bait for an assassin. 

#mondayswithzare

I’m so excited you guys! Next Monday is the official release of the First Episode of The Hoopskirt Job. Can you believe it? You’re all like, “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for three months.” Yeah, yeah,  know. But if you rush a miracle you get a rotten miracle (Miracle Max was so wise).

Many thanks to my patrons, who’ve supported me as I wrote and brainstormed like a really stormy storm mage.

See you Monday!

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Legendary Art

Took a break to paint!

Typically, I have The Badlands Job, The River Rebellion, and the new story open all at the same time so I can work on them concurrently. There are so many moving parts, I’m so looking forward to launching this in the new year.

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What’s next?

Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading The Legend of Zare Caspian; The River Rebellion!  I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

It’s been three years, can you believe it? Three years, one hundred episodes, and nearly 130,000 words.

So, now you’re wondering what to motivate yourself with on Mondays, right? The good news is that the story is not over, not by a long shot. The bad news is that I’ll be taking a little break to edit The Badlands Job, get you closer to a book you can hold in your hands, and also to develop the next adventure a bit more before diving in with both feet.

In the meantime, follow the blog if you haven’t already, so you won’t miss when the story returns. I’ll post here occasionally, but head over to my Patreon page if you want to be a part of some cool exclusives. You can also assuage the empty space in your Monday with cool Zare-wear from Redbubble. But, most importantly, tell all your friends about your epic addiction to The Legend of Zare Caspian, because adventures are even more  fun with friends. The entire series is linked, in order, here.

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100 – The Road Ahead

At dusk, we laid the King of Dalyn to rest in an over grown walled garden beside the ruined house. The knights had slowly gathered stone rubble on their patrols throughout the day, and now we all helped raise a cairn over Tarr Kegan’s body. We had nothing to bury with him to indicate rank or honor besides the thin circlet he’d worn in the ballroom. We had no flowers. No tapestries. Not even a sword we could spare. Just broken stone. Hess watched us work from nearby, Tarryn in her arms and Naran clutching her skirt. The other four children clustered around her, watching solemnly as the cairn rose higher. I wondered if any of them had met the man assumed their sire. The man whose generosity and craftiness had backfired on them and torn them from their mothers. Would they hate him if they did understand?

Rock after misshapen rock passed from one calloused hand to another until Tarr’s form was entirely protected by the shattered pieces of Rhydderhall. Nothing but starlight and the glow from the rising moon illuminated Trinh as he climbed up our little mound and set a white piece of marble at the pinnacle. The marble was part of a carved frieze, but all that remained was a ship with three masts riding a wave. Trinh stepped back down and stood facing the cairn, his hands hanging at his sides. For a moment, I could almost see his thoughts: They swirled around him, condemning ghosts crushing him with the enormity of his defeat. It was as if he finally believed, for the first time, that his family had died six years ago and his beloved had not been seen or heard from since. He finally believed, and it would tear him apart.

Hesperide approached the cairn and sank to her knees, putting one hand on the stones. Naran, still at her side, did the same, bowing his little head. Her presence calmed the chaos radiating from Trinh with a leaden blanket of sorrow.

No one said anything.

After several long moments, Trinh put his hand on Hess’s shoulder. She looked up at him, then accepted his help up. Time to mourn was another thing we didn’t have to give Tarr.

We had miles to go tonight, to get as far as we could in different directions and fade into trade routes from different cities. Eventually, we’d all flee west. West, to bright Magadar. To lick our wounds, and to hide Tarr’s heirs. And for my brothers and me, to find our court.

Trinh led Hess back into the ruin where our carefully portioned packs and supplies waited. The rest followed one by one; knights, children, and my brothers each laying a hand on the cairn in farewell before filing back into the desolate villa. I heard one knight mutter, “May the immortal Breath bear you swiftly to Eloi in paradise.” Traditional words.

When it was only Quill and I left in the walled garden. I approached the cairn, stopping at the base and staring at it while I fingered my gold pendant with the sailing ships. How could this cold white pile of rocks contain the red tipped hair and burning blue eyes of that mad, brave, king?

I felt Quill stop beside me. The few hours we’d both been up had been busy dividing the supplies and the money from Tarr’s gifts between the four traveling groups. We’d talked just enough for me to learn that he had barely a scratch after last night’s battles, and that he and the doctor’s son were going with Hess and her children tonight. The children were divided among Trinh’s knights. The Galhirim would be entirely on our own for the first time in our lives. Strange to think we’d made it this far without experiencing that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we were staying to face the Huntsmen,” I said, eyes on the cairn, “I wanted to thank you for coming back for us.”

Quill nodded, “It’s what we do, come back for each other.”

I looked at him, then. The moon touched the angles of his face, and I found myself wanting to do the same as he gave me a small smile. I didn’t, but my answering smile felt like a promise. Even as I said, “You still owe me.”

He scoffed, “I don’t think the doctoring counts as many times as you think it does.” He plucked my sleeve right above my stiches. “And stop using your arm to block blades.”

My lips quirked. “I learned from the best.” I tugged his sleeve where he’d taken a sword in Gillenwater, so long ago.

His eyes sparked. Then he asked, “Which of you killed Khattmali?”

I drew a breath and let it out, “I did.”

A pause as satisfaction painted itself across every line of his face.

I continued, “She said she was the foremost of the Queen’s Huntsmen. That she had been rewarded the position in Dalyn to woo Tarr.”

“Huntsmen,” repeated Quill. “Ayglos mentioned them. Said they hunt without hounds.”

I thought of the golden woman who’d helped both Ayglos and I; who had undoubtedly been the one to keep Ayglos from being hit squarely in the spine when the Huntsmen first caught up with us. “I think they hunt,” I hesitated, “…by magic. And I don’t think we killed them all.”

Quill looked thoughtful. “I will find out more about them. Once Hess is safe.” He looked over his shoulder at the villa.

“You’re coming back?” I asked. No one had discussed coming back yet, and I feared he would say no. That he’d stay with Hess, wherever she holed up, and leave this fight for good. For me, the only road away from Dalyn curved right back to it.

Our eyes locked, the moon brightening his gaze with white fire. He was angry. I realized with some surprise that I’d never seen his anger before. Not like this. Quilleran Rhydderick was angry. Not at me, but at Narya Magnifique. Perhaps at himself, too. His voice was low, “We still have to be the ones to write the history.” To tell the real story of Tarr Kegan.

Something in me unfurled, like someone breathed on kindling at just the right moment to give life to fire, and I nodded. Then, crouching, I placed my hand on the stones. My fingers curling around a jagged edge as if I were holding Tarr’s hand. “We’re not done here,” I said half to Quill, half to the silent cairn and the man underneath. “We will be the ghosts who haunt the Nether Queen. The ones she could not catch. Could not kill. The light she could not smother.”

*

This is the end of The River Rebellion. Zare Caspian will return.

Special thanks to my Patrons, you help make the Legend possible!

EPSON MFP image

 

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98-Rhydderhall

By the time we arrived at the ruins of Rhydderhall I had forgotten we had a destination at all. The tunnels let out north of the city, and near the Bandui. We’d crossed the river in the same little boat Trinh and his knights had used when they first returned in secret to Dalyn. The children were in cold stupors, and Quill was all but carrying Hesperide when we stumbled down the remote lane to Rhydderhall. Namal and Baldric were waiting for us in the desolate little garden outside the kitchen, presumably alerted to our approach by sentries. Their eyes went wide as we dragged ourselves in, the sky graying to dawn behind us.

Baldric took one look at Hesperide’s pinched face and darted forward to scoop her into his arms. She sagged against his hulking body as he turned and rushed her into the ruined house. We followed slowly, unable to muster any enthusiasm to cover that last few steps with anything resembling speed. Quill lifted Naran from my arms and I was too tired to protest that I could carry him.

Namal swept his gaze over us, taking in the extra tiny beings bundled in miscellaneous fabric and the blood frozen to our clothes. I could see him putting all the pieces together. We were alive, walking, and he knew exactly why we had so many children with us. He turned and gestured us to follow, “Come, there is water and a little food.”

“Did you have any trouble?” asked Trinh, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” replied Namal. “We set the horses loose well away from here and made good time over bare ground. The men are covering your trail from the main road. We should be able to rest the day, at least. If the cold masks our scent.”

As we entered the narrow stairwell down to the old wine cellar a woman’s groan floated up to greet us. Fantasies of curling up someplace warm to sleep for a few hours vanished like little puffs of breath on a cold wind. I should not have been surprised.

Trinh finished the stairs in two leaps—impressive with the pack on his back and the child in his arms. Namal and Rakov were right behind him, but Quill didn’t bother to rush. He knew already, of course. He’d been her walking stick for the last few hours. My feet were dragging as I closed the cellar door behind us and descended last.

“She’s in labor,” Baldric was standing in gap in the furniture wall that split the room, holding a steadying hand out to Trinh. The rightful king looked very much like he should be holding a giant sword in his fists instead of a heavily bundled child. He stared blankly at Baldric a moment before all the action drained out of him, leaving him with a dazed expression.

I had never been anywhere near a woman in labor—and though the cooks at Galhara were very educational human beings. I looked around the cellar. A few lit candles showed that it was as we’d left it. It was, while not warm exactly, warmer than it was outside. A couple of Trinh’s knights were standing on one side of the room, rumpled blankets on the floor behind them as if they’d been trying to rest before we arrived.

“I don’t think it will be long, now,” continued Baldric.

“Her labor started when running in the tunnels,” said Quill very quietly.

She hadn’t said a word or made a sound. Tears stung my eyes.

“We have to risk a fire,” I said, “We’ll need hot water.” Babies needed cleaning, if nothing else. We needed heat, too, and there were plenty of wounds which also needed attention if we were to survive long enough to escape.

Two of the knights sprang to action, darting past me and up the cellar stairs into the dawn.

I slung my pack off my shoulder, dropping it with a heavy thunk next to the lone table before opening it to fish out Boitumelo’s satchel. Satchel in hand, I headed behind the make shift wall. Hess was hunched over, back propped against the cold stone wall, her head in her hands. Her underthings were already in a pile next to her and her dress was hiked over her knees. A knight was crouched beside her, stroking her hair. I blinked in surprise when I realized the knight was a woman. She was dressed in warm clothes reinforced with leather armor. Her hair was restrained in a long dark braid. She turned to look at me when I entered, her chin dipped, “Your Highness.” She was a few years older than me. Her face was not delicate, but she had a fearsome sort of beauty with thin lips and large dark eyes.

My steps slowed as I approached. “I don’t remember you,” I said. Too tired, apparently, for manners.

She gave me a small smile, as if I’d revealed her greatest secret. “I am Athrynel Hasreda, the King’s Marksman.”

Pausing, I looked at her again, remembering the hail of arrows which held the Nether Queen’s soldiers back while Quill and I leapt into the river. I met her eyes, “You probably saved our lives.”

Her smiled broadened a little. “You’re welcome.”

I opened the satchel, surveying the contents as if I had any idea what I was looking for. Athrynel stood and came to look over my shoulder. “Do you know how to use this?” she asked, eyeing the kit.

“For wounds,” I replied, helplessly. “I grew up during a war.”

Hess moaned again and my eyes flew to her. She still had her head in her hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you’d learn midwifery in peacetime either,” Athrynel clucked and crouched to sift through the satchel.

She pulled a couple bottles out, then pushed the rest of the satchel back to me. “Most of the men have one scratch or another, do what you can. I’ll stay with Hestria. You find me some blankets or something and hurry them up on that fire.”

“Do you know anything about midwifery?” I asked, picking up the satchel and gladly moving away.

“No,” Athrynel turned back to Hess. “But I helped a cow once, long ago. And someone will fetch Gyreon off patrol. He picked up some of his father’s physician trade before deciding war was easier.”

I didn’t know who Gyreon was and wasn’t sure how much help he’d be if he’d left doctoring because he preferred fighting. Perhaps still more helpful than me. I returned to rest of the cellar to find that Trinh had recovered somewhat from his shock. He and his knights were busy unwinding children from their individual bundles, chafing cold little hands back to warmth, and rearranging the clothes and blankets into a den where they could tuck all the children together for maximum warmth. I stole one of the blankets, and as an afterthought pulled the servant’s warm clothes out of my pack, carrying it all back to Athrynel and Hess. As I left them, a knight came barreling down the cellar stairs and straight past me to Hess. Gyreon, I guessed.

Ayglos was sitting at the table, his wounded arm hanging limp. I started pulling things out of the satchel. “Namal, help him take the uniform off.”

Namal joined us in the puddle of candlelight and helped Ayglos unfasten the buttons of the uniform and shrug it off his good shoulder. Ayglos leaned forward and just gritted his teeth as Namal peeled the blood stiff jacket off the wounded shoulder and down the arm. Domjoa would not be pleased we’d destroyed his expensive fake uniform. The shirt underneath was thoroughly dried to Ayglos’s skin, and after prying at it we decided to wait for water.

While we worked, the door opened again, and another knight came down the stairs. I was surprised to see another woman, this one with short, dirty blonde hair, wearing the same sort of clothes and armor as Athrynel. She carried a bundle of wood in her arms. She scanned the room till she found Trinh, and said, “We’ve got a little fire going, and I found a pot for boiling water. I think we should consider building a fire down here so the babes don’t catch their death.”

The knights had wrapped themselves in their cloaks and alighted around the bed of children like migratory birds. Hew was burrowed in the center of them, his nose and his tail just visible amongst the folds and mounds.

“There’s no chimney,” protested one of the knights.

“We could use the stairwell,” countered another.

“And leave poor Jasem and Rae’d stranded on patrol all day?” teased a third.

Trinh jumped in, “Jasem could jump over the fire—and Rae’d is very lucky, I’m sure he’d be fine.”

Gruff laughter rumbled through the flock of knights.

Laughter.

I dragged my eyes to Trinh, surprised to see a smile teasing at his mouth.

“The bigger problem is we’ll have to jump to get out,” someone said.

“Better rest up, then.” The blonde smiled and dumped her armload of wood right next to the stairs.

Quill emerged from the huddle to help the blonde set up a make shift hearth just a foot away from the stairs, and to prop the door at the top of the stairs so it stayed open wide enough to lure the smoke out.

While we waited, I laid out astringent, salve, and the few bandages we still had. Namal hunted down the pitcher and basin we’d used last time we were here. Then we sat shredding a sheet from the villa into long strips. Who knew cloth would become so precious to us?

And while we waited, Hess’s moans became cries.

Quill had just coaxed the flame to life when the blonde left again and returned carrying a steaming pot. She edged around the fledgling fire and brought the pot to the table, filling the pitcher and basin I’d set out. She took the pitcher and headed behind the furniture wall.

Then, like the bells of the Cathedral calling worshippers to prayer, the squalling of a baby filled the cellar, reverberating off the stone walls. We all stopped to listen. Relief blossomed so tangibly from the cluster in the blankets that I turned to look at them. Soft voices slowly soothed the crying behind the wall. Quill left the fire and went to stand hesitantly in the opening. Tarr should be here. Trinh was staring, obviously feeling responsible, but also uncertain what his role should be. Quill was family by blood. After a moment, Quill disappeared into the back.

I turned away and soaked a rag in the basin—the water was warm, but I doubted it had been boiled. I added a splash of astringent and set to work on Ayglos’s shoulder, wetting the shirt enough to peel it away, then off entirely. The throwing knife had left behind a fairly small slit, but it was deep. I cleaned the wound as gently as I could before pasting it with salve and awkwardly wrapping bandages around his entire shoulder and across his chest to get them to stay. Ayglos had a few other nicks and slashes, and I treated them all. He bore the sting with a few hisses, and Namal helped him re-dress with clothes Quill and I had brought from the apartment.

I did my best to clean out the cloth and Namal took away the basin to dump the water and refill it with clean water.

“Who’s next?” I asked the room.

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