By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (22 page)

What if it’s one of Rishak’s killers?

Then we’re sunk already, and you know it
, Lian replied.

I don’t like it
, Gem grumbled.

“I don’t like it,” Lian said, echoing his sword’s worries. He had learned not to ignore her.

Snog nodded. “Uh-huh. Shall I do a little sneakin’, milord?” He loosened his knives in their scabbards and drew out his crossbow. Slowly enough to be nearly silent, he began to turn the cranequin.

Lian followed suit. “No, I think we should stick together. Anyone brave enough to enter a supposedly haunted city is likely to know enough wood lore to catch you. Teg spoke of a ranger who dwelt near here, named Saul.”

Snog sighed. “Maybe I’d be better, makin’ meself scarce?”

Lian said, “No. If he finds you alone, he’s likely to shoot first. If you stay with me, he’ll probably just threaten to shoot you first.”

“That’s nay very comfortin’.”

They loaded their crossbows and moved into the city. While Lian considered himself to be pretty quiet as he moved through the vegetation-choked streets, he had to strain to hear evidence of Snog’s passage. The occasional creak of the goblin’s leather armor was the only noise he could discern.

The smell of roasting rabbit was a reminder to both of them that they hadn’t had much to eat except for the blackberries. The aroma strengthened as they located and approached a building whose chimney betrayed a shimmer of heat at its top, though there was no smoke.  To Lian, the grumbling of his belly seemed as loud as thunder, though he knew that it wasn’t really making much sound.

This building had an intact roof, constructed of tin. The forest foliage had encroached on the building nearly completely, but hadn’t managed to collapse its roof yet. From the size of the ovens, the outer of half of which protruded from the wall, Lian could tell that it had once been a bakery.

The external walls of one of the ovens was quite warm to the touch, though there was no evidence of the smoke that stoking such a large oven would produce. Lian motioned Snog to follow him, and peered carefully through one of the building’s windows.

There were signs that someone had been using this building to encamp, for the place was pretty clean. The door was intact, and Lian could discern via his witchsight that there weren’t any animal droppings inside. Rats would have finished off flour stores long ago, if the original inhabitants had left any behind, so there would be nothing to attract animals.

Of the cook, there was no sign.

“Do we go in?” Snog asked softly, pitching his voice low rather than whispering.

Lian took a look around, but didn’t see anyone in the surrounding buildings. “Yes,” he replied. “We’ll wait for the chef to return.”

They opened the door carefully, Lian lifting it to reduce the sound of rusted hinges. He quickly discovered that he needn’t have bothered, however, for the hinges had been recently oiled.

Inside, was a selection of the mysterious cook’s belongings. An old lyre lay propped against an inner wall, its wood battered yet well oiled. There was an iron pot, a pewter plate, an eating knife, and a bag, all arranged neatly in a corner.

There was also a bundle of arrow shafts and a small sack of feathers, indicating that the owner of these items fletched his own arrows.

Snog approached the ovens and strained upward to reach the door handle of the first cold one. He yanked it open one-handed, bringing his crossbow to bear as the door swung aside. He checked the other cold one in the same way. Both were empty.

He swung the doors closed and used his dagger pommel to unlatch the middle oven, swinging the door aside with it. Inside were two skinned and quartered hares on a metal sheet, just reaching doneness. There was no smell of wood or coal smoke.

“They’re going to burn if you don’t take them out,” said an amused voice from the doorway.

Snog and Lian both whirled, leveling their crossbows at the man in the doorframe. Before they could ready their weapons, he ducked back around the corner.

From his short glimpse, Lian had seen a middle-aged man, wearing a forest-green cloak and carrying an unstrung long bow. Gem provided more detail from her own observations. The man was also armed with a short sword and dagger, in addition to a quiver of arrows at his side. His garb beneath the cloak was brown, and he wore no obvious jewelry.

“Snog, lower your bow,” Lian ordered. “My apologies, sir, but you startled us both.”

I didn’t perceive him until he stepped around the corner and spoke,
Gem said.
He’s pretty damned quiet
. That was an understatement, given the supernatural senses that Gem possessed.

“Accepted, boy,” he said in good humor. “It was rude of me to do that, so you have my apologies as well.”

The man stepped back around the corner, holding his unstrung bow in his right hand, hampering his ability to draw his sword. His moves were slow and calm, intended to be nonthreatening.

Snog had lowered his bow, but left his hand on the grip and his finger on the trigger. Lian transferred his crossbow to port arms.

“I assume that you are Saul?” Lian asked.

The man raised his eyebrows. “Yes. You aren’t dressed like a native, young man. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Lian shook his head. “I’ve never been to Greythorn in my life, sir. But the ogre Teg said you lived near here.”

“How did you come to know Teg?” asked the man, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Snarl was shot by someone’s arrows, and I happened upon Teg hovering over the body,” Lian began, evoking a deep sigh from the man, who lowered his eyes and began to look grieved. “Oh, Snarl’s okay, sir. I pulled out the arrows and expended the last of my healing magics on the bear.”

Technically true
, Gem remarked.

Hush
, Lian said.
Lest I make a slip.

“Did you?” he said, his expression brightening considerably. “So where are Teg and Snarl now?”

“He went to visit a manticore he knew,” Lian replied. “He had a body to dispose of.”

“A body?” he said, shaking his head. “The rabbit’s about to burn, lad. Mind if we take it out?”

Snog volunteered, “I’ll get it.” Retrieving one of the large paddles that hung on the wall, he salvaged the cooking rabbit. He had to strain to get leverage on the sheet, but he managed to transport the rabbit to the counter in the center of the room without dropping it.  Goblins were small, but they were also very strong.

Saul leaned up against a counter, letting the bow rest against the doorjamb. “When those cool, you’re welcome to a share. My dinner guest left the city when you arrived.”

When it became obvious that Saul wasn’t planning to impart more information about his guest, Lian said, “My thanks, sir. It would be a shame to waste any of this.”

Saul chuckled, saying, “Oh, there’s no danger of that, lad. There’s lots of critters out there that would gobble down such a delectable snack without complaint, I assure you.

“Now, you seem to have me at a disadvantage,” he said, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“My apologies again, sir,” Lian said. “I am Alan and this is Snog, formerly a scout for Death’s Hand.”

Snog grunted a hello, sniffing at the rabbit meat.

“You were saying something about Teg and a body?” the man prompted, pulling a stool out from under a leg well of the counter and sitting gingerly on it. It creaked alarmingly, but held his weight.

Lian told the ranger about the goblins at the springhouse. He also spoke of the Undead knight, Sir Temvri, and the goblins of Death’s Hand that had been mining
lashthirin
from Whitefall.

Saul listened intently to the entire tale, glancing sharply at Snog when the scout’s involvement was mentioned. He didn’t interrupt except to turn a knob under the oven and to place the rabbits back in during the middle of Lian’s tale.

At the end of the account, Lian said, “Snog has accepted my pay, and that obligates me in regard to him. I hope that you understand that.”

Saul’s eyes were dark, but he smiled and said, “Well, since you were careful to mention that he hadn’t actually been the one who defiled the spring, I will have to defer to your judgment in the matter. Your actions prevented this from becoming a problem for Ysras, and that places me somewhat in your debt.

“I’m willing to spare the scout’s life in exchange. I think you’re unwise to trust him, but that’s between the two of you.”

“Ysras?” asked Lian.

“The druid,” Saul replied, extracting the rabbits from the oven once again. This time, the heat inside was lower, and the carcasses had merely been kept warm. “He’s an old friend of mine, and I’d hate to see him come to any harm.

“We’ll have to do something about this Lyrial. I knew that he’d come to Whitefall, but not that he had designs on these lands.” The way the ranger spoke almost implied
my lands
to Lian.

“You have dwelt here all your life?” asked Lian, as he accepted an offered portion of rabbit. It was slightly overdone, but tasty nonetheless. It had been rubbed with salt and some herb that Lian couldn’t identify.

Saul nodded, biting into his hare and chewing thoughtfully. “A long time. I came to live here shortly after the sack of the castle. It leaves someone here to look after things.”

Snog was hungrily devouring his part of the rabbit, while he kept a wary eye on the man. The knife he was using to eat the meat was the same one he’d used on his cousin.

“How did you come to be up near Whitefall, son?” he asked. “That’s a fair journey from Yrta or even the plain.”

Yrta was a small village upriver from Nylla, on the southern side of the mountains. In ancient times, Yrta had been the site of a fortress which had resisted the coming of the Theocracy. Now, the hillock outside of Yrta proper, where the castle had been, was a haunted ruin, where demons were said to walk the night.

Nylla was a fishing village, which supplied Fendar Port, the northernmost Dunshorian city, with food and other supplies. Yrta and Nylla had a long-standing friendship, to the point that the hereditary mayoral families were heavily intermarried.

The two towns were also the only communities anywhere near Whitefall.

Lian said, “I had been told that the area around Whitefall was a good place to find Holy Wort. A witch in Nylla hired me to find some for her.”

Quick thinking
, Gem said.

I’d been thinking about how to answer that one, but thanks
.

Saul’s eyebrows went up. “Holy Wort? That’s common down here in Greythorn City, too. It grows in the cemetery north of the town, as well as up on the castle walls, where the shadows are deeper. You’d have been safer coming here, I think.”

Lian shrugged. “Be that as it may, sir. The Yrtans didn’t know about the goblins, and in fact had told me that Whitefall was deserted.”

“Still, that’s a dangerous area to be wandering alone, sword or no,” Saul said, gesturing at the well-worn blade and scabbard that Lian had laid across his legs where he sat on the floor.

Lian said, “I didn’t mean to imply that I started out alone, sir. I lost two companions in Whitefall, though I hope to see one of them again, if he managed to escape.” His statement was technically truthful, if not precisely accurate. And the prince did find some grief over the loss of the necromancer Lord Grey, though he’d known him only a short time.

Saul said, “Ah. My apologies. What does your missing companion look like? I know folks in the whole forest, and we can keep an eye out for him.”

Lian smiled ruefully. “My friend would avoid contact until he finds me again. He’s strange that way.”

Careful, lad
, Gem said.

“I’ll have to contact old Illota and see what use she’s come up with for Holy Wort,” Saul said, gnawing at a thigh bone. “As far as I knew, it wasn’t used for much of anything.”

Lian said, “Illota? Do you mean the old witch woman?”
Hell. I think he’s suspicious
.

Saul nodded. “Yes. I guess she never told you her name.”

Lian shook his head and decided to change the subject. “Who do you think was firing on Snarl? I got the impression that Teg was known around here, at least to you.”

Saul cocked his head thoughtfully and said, “I’d have to guess that some bandits have moved into the area, either from the pass or up from Villas. The local folk like Teg and his ursine friend because they’re always willing to take on some rampaging beast or help out in other ways.

“I may not have shown it properly, but I’m truly grateful that you helped them. Most would have put a bolt in Teg’s back and thought he’d done the world a big favor.

“But then, most wouldn’t have spared a skilled scout that also happened to be a goblin, so you’re obviously a cut above the rest, lad,” the ranger said approvingly.

At that moment, a wolf let loose with a mournful howl, somewhere to the southeast. Saul nodded to himself, and got to his feet. “Your Undead friend is drawing near, I think,” he said, stringing his bow with one powerful, sure motion.

At Lian’s look, Saul said, “Not all of my friends are human, boy. You don’t live in harmony with the land for as long as I have without picking up a little magic of your own.”

He drew out a white-fletched arrow, which was tipped with
lashthirin
. “Snog, my diminutive friend, what do you know about the knight?” he asked. The others got to their feet.

Lian said, “I’d rather you didn’t get involved with this, sir. You’ve shown us kindness and I hate to repay it with risking your life.”

Saul chuckled. “Let me decide which fights are worth fighting, son. Temvri sounds like he’s due to be put to rest.”

Snog nodded enthusiastically. “The man ‘ere be right, milord,” he said. “If Temvri’s chased us this far, he will nay give us up ‘til he’s dead or we be. Better we end ‘im now.

“Ye needs an magicked weapon to ‘urt ‘im, an’ his armor’s tough beside that. I’ve never seen anyone try to enspell ‘im, but our shaman told us ‘is magics weren’t strong enough.

“He’s a deadly bastard wi’ that sword, and I once saw him suck the life right out of a poor fool, by grasping ‘im with his gauntlets.”