DemonWars Saga Volume 1 (195 page)

"Indeed there are not," he said with a chuckle. "Nor were any others deemed worthy of the position. Thus, I serve both the King and Father Abbot now, as baron and abbot —bishop, by title."

"We have been informed, Bishop De'Unnero," Shamus said quickly, before Colleen could offer any more sarcasm.

"And since the city is in such disarray, King Danube has deemed it necessary to lend me a contingent of his soldiers," the Bishop explained.

"I understand," Shamus replied, then followed with the standard, accepted line of obedience. "And, of course, my men and I are at your complete disposal."

"Of course," the Bishop echoed. "And what of you, Colleen Kilronney? I have heard many of the guards here at Chasewind Manor speak highly of you. Of course, I have also heard many whisper that Colleen Kilronney would not be in good spirits when she returned from the north to discover the changes in her city."

Colleen's eyes widened, surprised that the new bishop had so bluntly put that out on the table. She started to answer, but De'Unnero stopped her.

"I understand your anger," he said. "I have been told that none were more loyal to Baron Rochefort Bildeborough. Of course that sentiment will carry over for some time after his death. I applaud such loyalty." He leaned forward in his chair, so that only she, and perhaps Shamus, could hear. "But I will not tolerate any disloyalty to your beloved Baron's successor."

Colleen's eyes narrowed dangerously as De'Unnero eased back. Again the two locked stares —and this time, it was Colleen who finally backed down.

"I will require a full accounting of your travels up north," De'Unnero went on, never taking his imposing stare from the warrior woman. "Unfortunately, at this time, I have other matters to attend."

"We will return when you summon us," Shamus replied and started to bow, thinking it was time to take their leave.

"No, you will stay and you will wait," De'Unnero corrected. He motioned to one of the monks. "Find them a place, a side room somewhere," the Bishop instructed absently.

"Ye sure 'twas on that eye?" Dainsey Aucomb asked for the third time, reaching out again to adjust Pony's eyepatch.

"The right eye," Pony replied with a sigh, growing impatient. Pony worked hard to hide that frustration. Dainsey wasn't the brightest-burning torch in the room, but the disguise had been her idea and her doing, and it alone allowed Pony free run of Fellowship Way. Besides, Dainsey had been a loyal worker for Graevis and Pettibwa, a daughter of sorts, filling the void that had been left in their lives when Pony had been sent into the army by Abbot Dobrinion as punishment for her attack against her husband, Connor Bildeborough. And, more recently, Dainsey had proven to be a great help to Belster, had willingly given him control of the tavern —left in her care when the Chilichunks had been abducted by the Church—and had stayed on without complaint to help Belster operate the business.

So Pony, for all her frustration and fear, took extra care not to let any hint of her anger out.

"The right one, ye say? " Dainsey asked, honestly perplexed.

"Thought it was the left eye," came Belster's voice, as the portly innkeeper entered the room.

Pony turned a one-eyed glare his way, and saw the jovial man smiling wider than usual —and that became a belly chuckle when Dainsey stubbornly reached for the eye patch.

"Right eye," Pony said firmly, pushing Dainsey's hand away. She was more frustrated with Belster than with the woman, for she knew the innkeeper was only teasing her. She turned her gaze from Belster, for her obvious distress was only making him smile all the wider, and looked directly at Dainsey, pointedly grabbing the woman's wrist and pulling her arm down.

"Right eye, then," Dainsey at last agreed. "Yer own skinny neck, it is. Ye let me get ye some more powder, though. Can't be havin' any o' that golden hair o' yers shinin' through!"

The mere mention of the gray powder sent Pony's hand up to scratch at her temple, then to run her hand back through her thick mane. She knew that Dainsey was right. With Dainsey's help, she went into the Way each night as Belster's wife, Caralee dan Aubrey O'Comely, padded and frumpy, and fully twenty years older than Jilseponie Ault.

"Any information?" Pony asked.

"Nothing important," Belster replied. "It is as if our friend Roger Lockless walked into the damned Masur Delaval." The innkeeper gave a frustrated shake of his head, then paused, waiting until Dainsey left. "And what of these soldiers?" Belster asked quietly. "You are certain that they were looking for the gemstones?"

"If not, then why have monks accompanying them?" Pony replied. "And the monks were using garnet, the stone also known as Dragon Sight because it bestows on its user the power to detect magic."

"But the gemstones have to be in use for such detection?" Belster asked nervously.

Pony nodded and the portly innkeeper breathed a sigh of relief. "And I've not used any since my return," she added. "Brother Avelyn once told me that many merchants have purchased gemstones from the Church."

"And now the Bishop's taking them back," Belster reasoned.

"That may be part of it," Pony agreed. "But he is looking for the gemstones, mostly because finding them may lead him to the friends of Avelyn Desbris."

"That I do not doubt," said Belster, "though it may be more than an extension of the search for you and Nightbird. I am not liking much the rumbling I am hearing from St. Precious —or from Chasewind Manor, since that is where the new bishop has taken up residence."

Dainsey returned then, singing a happy tune —and Pony wished that she still had such melodies within her—and the two went quiet. A bit of powder, a bit of grayish paste on Pony's fair face, and the woman stepped back to admire her work.

"Belster's wife?" Pony asked, hopping from the stool and turning slowly, arms out that they might regard her fully.

"Ho, but I like you better the other way!" Belster said with a wry laugh —a laugh that was cut short by a knock on the door.

"Soldiers in the Way," came the hushed call of Heathcomb Mallory, another friend from the northland who worked in the Way on those few nights he was not drinking there.

"You are certain that you did
not
use the stones?" Belster asked again, moving toward the door. Dainsey joined him, and the two left the room, but Pony only peeked out.

The Way bustled with a large crowd this night, as it did almost every night, but the innkeeper had no trouble in picking out the soldiers. Not only were they in their full military dress, he noted, but they carried swords at their hips. Belster immediately moved to the corner of the long bar closest to the three and started wiping it down, painting a wide smile on his face. "Gentlemen!" he called. "Rare it is that we see our protectors in here. Too rare, I say! Name your pleasure; the treat is the Way's to give!"

One of the soldiers smacked his lips and leaned on the bar. He started to speak, but another man dropped an arm across his chest to cut him short. "No pleasure," the second soldier said, "not this night."

If the first man had any intention of arguing, he dropped it when a monk of St. Precious pushed through the crowd, coming between the three soldiers to stand facing Belster.

"You are O'Comely?" the monk asked bluntly.

"Belster O'Comely," the innkeeper replied, sounding cheerful as usual, though the lack of respect from this man barely half his age made Belster grit his teeth.

"And how did you acquire this tavern?" the monk asked. "Were you acquainted with the previous owners?"

Before Belster could respond, Dainsey came strutting by. "I give it to 'im," she declared. "And it was mine for givin', since all accounts say that the Chilichunks won't be comin' back anytime soon."

The monk studied Dainsey carefully, then turned to glance at the three soldiers.

"Oh, don't ye go thinkin' that way!" Dainsey protested. "I already been taked to yer jail three times. How many times ye got to hear that I'm not the woman what stole the stinkin' stones?"

The monk studied her once more, then looked back at his companions.

"She has been there," one of the soldiers admitted, and his blush showed that he had been one of the many to "interrogate" Dainsey.

"Some of the precious gemstones have been stolen?" Belster asked innocently, looking at Dainsey as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

The monk eyed him intently.

"There was a man and a woman up north said to have some magic about them," Belster admitted, for he knew that the tales of Nightbird and Pony and their exploits were common Palmaris stories by now, certainly accounts that the Bishop and his minions would have heard.

"You are from the northland, then?" the monk asked.

"Caer Tinella," Belster lied, thinking that tying himself to Dundalis might be too close for comfort. "Thought to go back there, too, until Miss Dainsey here offered me and my wife a new life here at Fellowship Way."

"And what do you know of this man and woman up north?" the monk asked.

Belster shrugged. "Not much. We were running south and heard that our escape from the monsters was helped by them, that is all. Never did actually see them —or I might have seen the man, though from a long distance, sitting splendid atop a great black horse."

"Splendid?" the monk echoed sarcastically. "He is a thief, Master O'Comely. You should take better note of your companions."

"No companion," Belster insisted. "Just someone who helped me and many others get away from the monsters." He noted the expressions of the four men as he spoke reverently of this supposed outlaw, looks ranging from disdain to intrigue. The innkeeper took more than a little pleasure in promoting the reputation of his friend Elbryan and in sowing the seeds of doubt among the Bishop's faithful pawns.

Pony came out of the back room then, boldly walking to stand beside Belster. "Did ye offer any drinks, then?" she asked the big man, hooking his arm.

"My wife, Carralee," Belster explained.

"Ah, Father," Pony said to the monk. "Have ye any o' them wonderful stones about ye? Do ye think ye might fix me eye then? Got it all torn on the end of a goblin spear, ye know."

A sour look crossed the monk's face. "Come to the abbey," he said insincerely. "Perhaps one of the elders ..." He ended by waving his hand and turning away, motioning for the soldiers to follow.

"More than a bit of a chance you just took, by my measure," Belster said quietly to Pony when they had turned to go.

"Not so much of a chance," Pony replied unemotionally, as she watched the men leave. "If they had recognized me, then I would have had to kill them."

Dainsey gasped.

"And if they had invited you to go with them to St. Precious?" Belster calmly asked.

"To heal my eye? " Pony scoffed. "Not the Church that Avelyn ran away from. Not the Church that murdered my family and tortured Bradwarden. The Abellicans help when they need to help, and aid only those who might return the favor with gold or power."

The coldness in her voice sent a chill through Belster, who tried to change the subject. "And once again, we have Dainsey to thank," he remarked, turning to the smallish woman, who curtsied rather clumsily.

"It is true, Dainsey," Pony said sincerely. "You have helped me so much since I arrived. I understand why Pettibwa and Graevis loved you."

Dainsey blushed deeply and giggled, spinning away to gather up a tray and skip to some beckoning patrons at a nearby table.

"A good girl, she is," Belster remarked.

"And that, unfortunately, will probably get her killed," said Pony.

Belster wanted to yell at the woman for her pessimism, but he could not. In the last few days, the men of the new bishop, soldiers and monks alike, seemed to be everywhere, seemed to be closing a noose about Pony, and indeed, about all of Palmaris.

The monk left Colleen and Shamus in a side room furnished only with three small chairs and a tiny hearth. No fire was lit and the cool wind moaned down the chimney.

Shamus slid into a chair, put his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. Familiar with the ways of nobles, the captain knew that this could be a long wait.

Colleen, predictably, was much more agitated, pacing back and forth, sitting down, then jumping back up. No matter how much noise she made, no matter how hard she stomped her heavy boots against the wooden floor, she could not get any reaction from her cousin, which, of course, only made her all the more angry and impatient.

Finally, after more than an hour, she settled down, pulling a chair against the wall, and sat staring intently at the door.

Another hour passed. Colleen began to complain, but Shamus opened one sleepy eye and reminded her that Bishop De'Unnero was now the ruler of both the secular and spiritual aspects of the city, and certainly the two of them were not his highest priority.

Colleen grumbled again and leaned back, arms crossed over her chest, jaw set firmly.

Another hour, and then another. Colleen went from sitting to pacing and back again several times. She stopped her grumbling out loud, though, for there seemed no point —Shamus was fast asleep.

Finally the door handle began to move, and Colleen sprang up, moving quickly to give Shamus a kick. He opened his eyes as the door swung in, and to their mutual surprise, it was no messenger come to fetch them but Bishop De'Unnero himself.

"Stay seated," he bade Shamus, and he motioned Colleen into her chair. The Bishop didn't sit but stood towering over them.

"You will detail for me your time in the northland," De'Unnero explained. "I need not know about the monsters you have battled, nor any specifics of the environment. I am more concerned with those you might have allied with up there, particularly any warriors who might aid us should the darkness befall us once again."